Stray Souls
by JesterFromHell
Summary: An innocent act of compassion throws the business of Dante, Vergil and Nero into disarray. Really? Nobody is surprised anymore, at least until old friends show up. From there all it takes is a single step to plunge everything into chaos. In the midst of it stands Nero, fighting for who he wants to be. (AU, doesn't follow timeline either, Darksiders/DMC lore mixed together, Nero/OC)
1. Prologue

**Stray Souls**

* * *

 **A secret kept for oh so long**

 **buried under rain and stone**

 **ancient shadows will roam**

 **the heavy hearts will burn**

 **.**

 ** _Tarry the gates of yore_**

 ** _doom the kings of old_**

 ** _the echo of time will form_**

 ** _to chain the soil from fall_**

 ** _._**

 ** _Ancient souls will fly again_**

 ** _lady luck sends us her son_**

 ** _wisdom's right hand is repaid_**

 ** _two sides will align to one_**

 ** _._**

 ** _What was broken can be undone_**

 ** _what was stolen can be regained_**

 ** _what was dead can come to life_**

 ** _what was wrong can be made right_**

 ** _._**

Babylonian script, approx. 30th century BC

Transcribed from the encyclopedia of The Third

Translated, copied and archived by Danzig

* * *

Prologue

The first time Dante saw her was a few years in the past. She was walking the streets like one of those lost souls he saw ever so often, with empty eyes and empty pockets. He didn't pay much attention back then. He wasn't the good Samaritan for every poor individual he crossed paths with.

He always minded his own business and hoped that others did the same with theirs. He wouldn't meddle in affairs he clearly was not personal affected by. Selfish? No, wary and with a meaning to secrecy because he had to guard himself real close. The past had taught him that in a cruel way.

A few weeks later after that, he saw her again with a bag of groceries. It was raining and her the paper back was visibly soaked. He kept walking behind her until he caught up, because she stopped and adjusted her grip on the bag. He passed her without a single look.

Then he heard the tell tale clatter of glasses, cans and other things. He cringed. Walk on, he told himself, but it was no use and he already had turned around to see all the stuff rolling on the ground. A soft fuck escaped his lips.

He walked back and without a word he started gathering her things. Prying eyes were on him. And a small shy smile was beginning to form on her lips. He peered from under the fringe of his hair as their hands were busy picking up all the various things. Bottles, boxes, a few jars.

He mentally groaned. To many things to be carried without help by her two small hands.

"Thanks..." She mumbled, astonished from receiving help from someone. No one ever in this city paid attention to anyone. So, the more she was surprised it would be someone like him. He looked like straight out of some book. The red trench coat was made of leather. It looked quite expensive. He also wore pants of a softer looking black leather down to heavy boots.

His hair were white as snow and his eyes blue like the far away sky somewhere above those heavy dark rain clouds where the sun was shining.

But the most prominent thing that had imprinted itself right off the bat was the strange air around him. Maybe her fingers tingled from the cold of the rain and wind, but somehow she felt a strange warmth coming off of him. Like the warmth of a lazy summer evening breeze.

It was slightly disturbing. Her senses must have been playing tricks on her mind as he had bent down to help her get her things back up.

He straightened back up with his arm full and hummed affirmative the her prior showing of gratitude.

He meant to push everything back into the girls arms as she rose as well, but she was already holding too much and was clearly having a hard time holding it securely in place already.

They stood in awkward silence. Few seconds passed. Then he made up his mind, taking a step closer to her and tried to pile the rest of the groceries on top of those she already held. She juggled them around. And a can fell back to the ground and dented in the process.

Just great.

Her gaze helplessly followed the path the can had rolled off to. He sighed in defeat, before eventually retrieving it.

"Where do you live? I'll help you carry your stuff."

She blinked at his offer and gave him another shy smile. "Uh, just around the corner and down the street." And Dante was grateful he didn't have to walk across half the city, as he took most of the groceries off of her to carry them himself.

"Follow me." She started to walk with her new appointed knight in red armour, she almost giggled at this.

Dante certainly did not feel the need to strike up a conversation. He partly blamed the foul weather for it, but mostly the constant bad mood he found himself in these days.

They walked in silence through the pouring rain.

Dante was mostly protected by his heavy leather trench, but she was dripping wet from the merciless rain. The wind also had picked up and she turned her face so the cold wet raindrops wouldn't hit her directly and obscure her vision completely.

"Shitty day, huh." He said, without even knowing why he bothered to talk. Might have been the heavy awkward silence and the constant trickle of raindrops to eventually grind on his nerves.

"It's always raining in this damn city." She replied, but her voice wasn't bitter or anything.

Dante cracked her smile. "Pretty much. Well, you should definitely take a plastic bag next time you go shopping."

She gave a small laugh. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind." He sounded light-heartedly, half amused even. She found his voice to be mellow and slightly boyish. Pleasant.

They kept silent again. But Devon didn't mind, neither did he. They already had turned the corner and proceeded to walk on and Dante let himself fall a step back. She seemed a nice and decent girl, to good to be actually living in these shady parts of this city, so his wary eyes scanned her thoroughly out of building curiousity.

Her clothes were worn down and tattered. Her hair was a wet messy ponytail. The dull grey jacket had frayed ends. Her pants looked like they were green once, but were washed out and greyed instead. Her boots had seen better days too. But the wetness of the rain made it hard to decipher any color of that beaten down attire clearly.

He shook his head to himself. Well, he wouldn't ask any questions. Not his place and not the time either. But he couldn't help the small voice of concern piping up in the back of his mind.

He tried to shut it up, thinking of his preparations for the next job Lady had offered him. Pain in the ass, but it sure paid the bills. And by god, he needed the money. He wasn't really interested in any religious matters or stories of his heritage, or anything regarding this kind of stuff.

Yet, it was a lot of money and that was what mattered to him. And maybe the fact they actually worshipped his father.

Now that had been the big news. And Trish was off faster, than he could look. She managed to infiltrate the city and the strange cult, which was leading it. Something was shifting underneath, she had said. After that it had gone silent. Trish was a big girl and very capable of watching out for herself, but he was worried. He would wait one more day and then follow her to that backwater island with the city, full of silly cultists and religious nonsense, called Fortuna.

He would be gone for a good while. God, he hated travelling. It was boring, tedious and always inconvenient. He already saw himself sleeping in the car on the roadside.

The girl in front of him had stopped abruptly and he almost had bumped into her, caught up in his thoughts entirely. She fuddled around to get the keys out of her pocket and tried not to drop anything while doing so.

Dante had the chance to look up and down at the building they stood in front of. And it was in the exact desolate state he had expected. The paint was chapped and coming off. The windows of the first floor were broken. The front door to the four storey building looked like someone had given it a good beating, as it sported a variety of big cracks.

Did someone vent his anger with an axe on it?

"Thanks. Just leave it on the floor inside, please." She said, when she had managed to open the door. Dante was surprised it even still worked properly and could be locked altogether. His eyes followed the motion of her hand pointing inside.

He peeked into the dark hallway and took a step in to lay his share of her stuff down. He stood again and she gave him another grin, that somehow hit him with a strange warm feeling. It was genuine. Thankful. Not something you would come across easily these days. And in this part of the city either.

He gave her his cockiest grin. "No problem."

He briefly looked around the beaten down interior of the stairwell. Horrible. If someone had told him, that this building wasn't an abandoned ruin he would have not believed it.

But what was worst, than the look of havocked place, was the smell. He couldn't help but to choke a bit, hoping she wouldn't notice.

Who lived here on purpose? Well, by the embarrassed face she made, she wasn't probably living here only by free choice and knew oh too well that this wretched place was anything but paradise.

"Well, I'm off. See ya around." He saluted with his two fingers, before he turned around to quickly get away.

God, why was this unsettling to him? Because no kid should have to live like this. With kid though, he meant probably 20 years old or something. It was just kind of a habit to call others younger, than the age of around thirty he still looked like. But truth be told, some days he felt really old.

All she replied was a weak yes. But he probably didn't even catch that, the way he practically fled outside. She saw him cross the street with what seemed like a natural swagger and swiftly walk away the way they had come from.

"Huh. What a weirdo." She mumbled and went to the task of getting her shopping up to her place.

And she never saw him again for a long time. Sometimes she caught herself looking for that red trench, but it wouldn't show up again.

And it seemed like no one knew anything about him. She had described him to various people from shop owners, over the nice bulky lady from the cafe to the constantly stoned teen boy, who lived on the upper floor.

But no one remembered to have seen someone with his distinctive look. It had puzzled her for a while, but then she eventually forgot about him. Until she met him again much later.

* * *

Dante and Fortuna. It had been a mess.

They had brought utter chaos and ruin upon the beautiful see side castle city, when they uncovered the truth behind that demon hoarding cult. The Order of the Sword. What a load of bullshit.

But on the good side, he finally had managed to locate Vergil's beloved sword. And with his help and Vergil's, Nero defeated the Savior and rescued the city.

Everything, that revealed itself after, had left him in disarray. Almost.

Yes, they managed to save the city from Sanctus. But not from themselves.

Those shameless residents, who tried to blame it solely on him. And on poor Nero. The kid had lost everything dear to him in the process and still had fought bravely for them. What uneducated bunch of people. For what the Order had done, they quickly turned on Sparda and Sanctus and their holy preachings.

But, in retrospect, they simply didn't know better.

A devastated Nero couldn't take it long though. The blame, the hurt, the guilt. The constant reminder by the people, accusing him viciously, how he had let the Orders captain and his lovely songstress sister die. Nero's existence rampaged on the brink of insanity. Defeated and depressed Nero fled the city and ran to the only person, he knew. The last person he had learned to trust: Dante.

Adding to his desolate state was the agony of still owning Yamato. Dante knew, Nero wouldn't have made without his help. Vergil couldn't be allowed to rampage inside Nero's mind any longer.

Danzig provided them with the only solution, that would keep both souls remotely intact. An unholy ritual, that separated the two from each other and, as a last resort for Dante not wanting to send his brother back to hell, Vergil eventually had to become a devil arm.

Vergil and Nero stayed for good with Dante after that.

To Dante's utter astonishment, given Nero's fierceness, short temper and juvenile behaviour, he never actually blamed Dante for anything that happened in Fortuna. For that he had been grateful. In return, he did everything in his power to nurse the kid back to his usual self, cater to his every need in time of grief and self-doubt.

He owed him this much, and his heart wouldn't let him turn away anyway. And the kid did put up a fight to finally come back from the dark depth of depression and self-loathing. Even accepting what he had become.

It was because he had someone he could trust and accepted him the way he was. Nero's temper tantrums, his breakdowns in despair and tears, Dante stood firm and bore it with serene placidity. So much, he even was surprised at himself.

Vergil had another take on consolation and would often take the kid out to train. Nero took great interest in Vergil's fighting style, but seldom had the same steely composure to replay the complex routines over and over.

But Vergil was satisfied nonetheless, even when Nero lacked the patience to the arduous task. He had a training partner, because Dante never showed much concern for exercising. Vergil showed a portion of self content to educate someone actually capable enough to endure his dignified swordplay.

He was a sucker for flattery after all, but only Dante knew about this specific information about his brother.

So, both brothers had freely given up some personal space to their newest addition in the devil hunting business and Nero had settled quiet nicely and even went so far relocate them and the business to a bigger house eventually.

The events at Fortuna weren't completely forgotten at that time, but had settled at a manageable distance somewhere in the corner of Nero's mind.

Life was good as it was right now. And his companionship with both elder devil hunters was surprisingly fulfilling enough for him. All he had ever wished for in life was to belong somewhere. And his feeling had told time and time again, that this place was Devil May Cry. It had become his home.

So after getting comfortable with the life away from the secluded life in Fortuna and getting in touch with the big city life, Dante and Vergil started training Nero sufficiently to professionally take on jobs around Capulet City and beyond.

His knowledge of the world lacked greatly but by now he knew Capulet City by heart. And all the obscurities and atrocities that came with it.

Vergil would even go so far to call Nero reliable. Dante would not. To him, Nero would always be the kid in their family of hunters.

So, most of the time Dante was the one visiting their contacts. It was something about issues. Something about Nero being way too emotional in critical situations and Vergil simply being the intimidating guy he was.

So, it was everybodies Darling Dante, who mostly handled personal contacts. Neither of the other hunters seemed to mind, though.

Nero felt bored and Vergil wasn't the talkative type anyway, especially outside their tight knit family, which included also Lady and Trish, even to Vergil.

And it was at that time, when Dante did go out for job hunting and generally catching up on rumours in the confined circles of non and partial human society, that he saw the grocery shopping girl again. He didn't really remember their encounter anymore. It was buried deep along many other things in the back of his mind.

* * *

The moment she saw him, the memory resurfaced. The white hair was not something one could easily forget. And to her surprise, he almost sported the same attire, with minor changes here and there. And she involuntarily wondered where the hell one would get this kind of clothes to begin with.

She sat on a parkbench that had seen better days, like th epark itself, enjoying the last streaks of orange light across the bleak green when she heard an obnoxious engine roar. She turned to detect the source of the disturbing noise, which echoed through the empty streets.

Easily spotting the old fashioned motorcycle as it came around a corner. His hair was flowing freely in the breeze, cause he apparently refused to wear a helmet.

Her breath hitched instantly as she recognized him. He was cruising slow enough for her to get a decent look, but not close enough to make out any real facial traits. The hair and the clothes though spoke pretty much for themselves.

The prideful way, how he throned on the bike, mixed with a casual waft of indifference with his head held high, she knew it was him.

She watched in slight awe, as he passed her on his pretty old but well kept motorcycle. To her disappointment, he turned on the next corner and was out of sight within seconds. She refused the oncoming urge to follow, she couldn't possibly keep up with that machine, so she went back to what she was doing with a heavy sigh, not secretly wishing he might come back.

She clutched her book to her chest, she'd been reading the last hour or so, but in the dim street lights it became more difficult by the second. It had turned dark pretty quickly and the white haired guy didn't show up again, so she got up and stuffed the book into her dingy backpack she had dug out the garbage a few weeks ago.

There really wasn't much she still owned and the old red backpack was more than sufficient for her needs. Occasional she would a find books or magazines left behind at a station and that was pretty much all she had to be occupied.

She went back to the pavement of the street she had seen _him_ earlier and began her search for a secure spot to stay the night. The air was fresh, but not chilly. It was almost pleasant, but she preferred to have a secluded place for the remainder of the night, because these days it seemed like ever so often the night was reserved for creeps.

She left the park behind, which was placid at day, but a proper danger at night. She needed to get back to the shopping district and look there. At night-time it was the most abandoned place of the city. Bars and clubs with potential troublemakers were in the middle of the city and she usually avoided the area if she could help it.

Of course, it couldn't be helped to pass the group of drunks and night owls in general. She had administered a sixth sense for trouble over the years and most of the time managed to avoid any incident beforehand.

That's the kind of thing she learned while living on the streets of Capulet City. It could be a dangerous shithole all time. But she had learned her fair share of rules around the city and where she shouldn't go at night or which places to avoid altogether.

Low Town especially was a place one like her should not visit. People there weren't exactly welcoming. Everyone minded their own business, but unfriendly, wary eyes had told her, she didn't belong. So she had stopped venturing there completely, especially after dark. Sometimes the air seemed to shift and present her to a restless feeling, heavy not to be shaken off lightly.

* * *

In the cities core stood still the huge concrete skeleton of Temen-ni-gru. Why it wouldn't disappear, the reasons where unknown, even to Vergil. At some point Dante had gotten used to seeing it, whenever he hit Low Town. Well, he could see it from anywhere in the city but since the shady district was wrapped around it as closest, he could feel the dim aura it still upheld, making his blood rush.

The broken shell loomed over him as he directed his bike to follow the street that snaked around it. Dante did it ever so often, because the lingering electric buzz of the former hell gate still presented itself in an unpleasant way. It was somehow unnerving, but at the same time intoxicated his demon half until it hummed with a satisfied baritone.

A few watery drops hit his face and he looked up as dark clouds bloated up to cover the moon. A chilly wind picked up to bring the heavy rain cloud in position directly above the city. And then the rain came down on him. Cold and harsh.

He silently muttered a curse at the god forsaken place and hour and doubted if it was even worth to come here. Especially in this weather.

* * *

The young woman hadn't been paying much attention anymore to where exactly she was going. Her thoughts still clung to the red figure. She wondered what he was doing here anyway. Normal people kept their doors locked and stayed at home at this time. On the other hand, he didn't quite the invoke the feeling of what was considered normal.

Tentative drops started falling. Darkness settled in and filled every crack and fissure of the old buildings with overflowing deep shadows. A gust of wind hit her freezing from and the rain started pouring down, showing no mercy for lonely souls without a shelter.

Heavy lids gazed up at the darkened sky. Why did it always had to rain in this city? She hissed in discomfort at how much she was drenched within seconds, clutching her backpack to her chest under the jacket so it wouldn't get soaked completely.

She was half running and the steady sound of drumming raindrops was almost deafening as it came in contact with the cracked concrete beneath her hasty feet. A grey curtain hindered her sight and and the wind became a howling storm like a wounded beast.

While she broke out into a last sprint, she still tried to look around through strands of wet hair, which clung in streaks across her face. This was a nightmare. She shouldn't have lingered subconsciosly waiting for him. How unbearable stupid of her. She had enough to worry about already, like finding a secure spot to stay the night. Or at least some hidden corner where she could wait and hide from the ice cold rain.

She frantically tried to make out the contours of the buildings that lined the downtrodden street, until her eyes focused on something in the distance. Even through the heavy rain she could see it. Did she already walk this far? Did she walk in the wrong direction in the first place? Now she cursed loudly under her erratic breath.

At least there was no soul in sight. But the disturbing tower was too close. She had to get away from here. It loomed over her small drenched and freezing figure and she could almost taste the disturbing, thick aura on her tongue like bitter salt. And she could swear the air had turned ten degrees colder.

She changed direction and ran back to where she came from, still trying to decipher where she was exactly. There were so many abandoned buildings with dark windows, she still had to follow quite a few streets to get back to the first occupied area around the tower.

She stopped short at a largely destroyed intersection and settled against the post of a dead street-lamp to catch her breath. Cold air stung in her lungs and she needed a few minutes to catch her breath. Her senses were dulled by the oppressed feeling of dread and breathlessness, forcing her body to the brink of it's weak abilities. Her heart pounded harshly against her ribcage.

Her eyes scanned the building in front of her, discovering fissure large enough to crawl in. There wouldn't be a way inside, because of the fallen rubble blocking out the smallest of chances. But at least it would provide her decent place to sit out the storm and escape the rain.

The pain in her chest was blocking everything else out. Her throat was burning up. She still pushed herself off the post and scurried towards the small niche. She breathed a relieved sigh, when she felt, that the wind came form the side, so she was kindly hidden from the full onslaught of it.

She let herself fall down onto her butt and leaned back against the battered wall. She was pretty good positioned to have an adequate view at the intersection. And it was dark enough for her to melt with the shadows if someone would pass her by.

* * *

Dante cursed the the storm as his bike carried him through low town. He hadn't seen or sensed anything out of the ordinary in the abandoned piles of destroyed houses and streets, but somehow it had become a habit to patrol the area. Vergil's mess, how he fondly called it.

But he had enough now. He was drenched to his very bone. Not much freezing, because of his mixed blood rushing hotly through his veins, but nonetheless he preferred the comforts of his swivel chair or the couch with this kind of weather around. He slowed the bike down, having to go left at the next intersection.

The motorcycle leisurely turned and Dante scanned the the lit area of the bike's large headlight. And briefly, something caught his eye. A swift flash of something light between the rubble of the dark building. He was puzzled at this. His senses were keen and he felt it more like actually saw it.

His senses zeroed in on the presence. It sure had a heartbeat. A human heart, which beat frantically like that of a chased rabbit. He let the bike coast to a stop and then cut the engine, resting on the kickstand. He shook the rain from his hair and swiped water from eyes to get a better look at the figure. "Huh." He hummed to himself, before he got off to approach the human.

When the headlight had hit her, she had flinched. And her heart, that had almost settled broke out into another sprint. She heard the engine die.

No. Don't come near me, her alarmed mind yelled. She didn't know whether to run or to crouch back as much as possible. She would have to get past him. And somehow she doubted her body to do so.

But it was too late anyway. Her widened unblinking eyes were glued to the tall dark figure, that approached leisurely as she sat there.

"Come out." A raspy, dark, but gentle male voice said to her. But as soft and velvety as it was, it also had a commanding tone and she didn't even think about it as her body slowly rose by itself. Damn.

Her eyes dropped to look at something on the ground, anything to keep her eyes occupied, anything but him. A hand was extended to her, clad in a black leather fingerless glove.

"This is no place to wander around alone, especially at night." His voice ignited something inside her. The cheerful tone surprised her and she could see a grin across his face. Hesitantly grabbing his hand on a whim and she let herself be pulled up.

He peeked at her face, slightly bent and even chuckled. "Now look at you, all wet and soggy." She finally met his gaze with a forlorn.

It was the same guy.

Her bewildered brain registered this at a painfully slow pace, though she recognized the voice and that distinctive red colour of his leather coat. The memory flashed before her inner eye. He was older, sure, so was she. He had a slight stubble on his chin and might had gotten a hair cut one time or the other.

Did he recognize her as well? With the playful cheeky grin and the somewhat friendly amicable attitude he first gave her the impression he might. But his eyes didn't give off any indication of it.

She still stared dumbfounded at him, before she realized her hand was still in his much bigger one. She bit her lower lip and tried to gain in back, but his grip tightened. Fear settled into her gut like a brick.

There was something inside her, that manifested at the strong, but gently grip of his hand and it quickly changed from a quiet whisper to a defying voice in her head. She didn't trust him. How could she?

"Let go of me." She said, trying to sound brave.

His grin did not falter. "I'm not trying to hurt you. If I wanted to, you'd already be on the floor by now." This unnerving cocky grin didn't do much to sway her. Instead she planted her feet sternly into the ground and pulled desperately to free her hand.

He chuckled and with a shrug, he instantly let her go. The girls eyes widened in disbelief, when he unexpectedly did so and she tumbled to the ground from the force she had actually managed to conjure. She landed square on her butt and fell right into one of those countless puddles on the pavement.

"Hey, why would you do that?"

She grunted in disgust as the water soaked the rest of her clothes that had managed to stay dry up until now. She struggled to get up and throw a hissy fit at him for letting her fall, but he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.

And that blue eyed glare stopped her train of thoughts altogether.

"Look, I just wanted to help you. But if you insist on being difficult, then so be it. Or you could get up and let me give you a ride home. And frankly, I wanna get home as soon as possible, so make up your mind. I don't care for your possessions, which I might add, aren't anything close to what I'm interested in nor am I interested in you. I just don't want a..." Human, he wanted to say, but managed to swallow the word in the last second. "...woman alone in this part of the city. It's not safe. So, are you coming or not?" He gave an exasperated huff and looked down at her with his blue eyes that bored right into her soul.

Whatever or whoever he was, she could detect the strange air around him. But as she let herself get drawn in by his gaze, she knew. He was speaking the truth. Her memory was hazy and he had changed. But underneath it all she could still feel the same warm glow.

"Or you'd rather stay?"

There were no words to properly describe it. He might look older and wasn't as aloof as back then. But he held the same aura, that didn't make her flee their first meeting. Her initial shock and anger disappeared. He was trying to help. Unconventionally so, but what mattered is, that he had stopped for her.

"No..." The woman tried to push herself up, but was offered a hand instead. Again. He hauled her up and she almost crashed into him, but was stopped by his other hand on her waist, steadying her small frame. "You're freezing, kid. Come on, hop on. The sooner we get out of here the better."

"Yeah..."

And without further comment he dragged her towards the motorcycle and mounted it immediately. When he was settled and grabbed the handlebars, she took it as her cue to climb onto the bike slightly awkwardly.

"This your first time riding a bike?" He asked looking back over his shoulder.

"Yeah.." She breathed, still unable to form a complete sentence. She didn't know if this was incredibly foolish or not. But he had helped her once, so maybe he was just a good guy with a bad attitude.

"Put your arms around me and hold on tight."

She almost gagged at the thought. What, no! His strong hands quickly searched for arms behind his back, when she didn't respond right away. "You need to hold on tight. I'm gonna be real careful, but you still need to hold on."

And without further ado, he snagged her wrist and wound her arms around him until both her hands touched. Hepatted her interlaced fingers softly for a single time reassuring her she'd be fine.

She sat there sheepishly, accommodating to the feeling of his bod.y He was wide, she mused. Not fat mind you, but very muscular. She could feel his stomach under her hands react when he spoke. And it surely seemed anything but chubby.

He turned once more, when he felt her sitting well and her arms tight around his waist. "Good to go?"

She nodded into his shoulder, a curious anticipation in her guts. "Yes."

And the huge bike came to life with a loud roar. The vibrations shook her to the bone and her whole body hummed with the purr of the engine. That felt actually pretty good. Powerful.

Then they were moving, and she saw the scenery pass her swiftly, but not too swift.

He really didn't go too fast, as he had promised. But after a few minutes, she wouldn't have minded, growing accustomed to the feeling to sit on the motorcycle. She felt so small on top of it but at the same time it gave her a sense of freedom.

He felt, how she relaxed into him, leaning a bit closer into his back and the fearfully tight embrace loosened up. She was getting comfortable he acknowledged with an amused smirk. And it was true. The initial slight fear had pushe dback at the feeling that she actually liked this. Despite the shitty weather.

So he deliberately decided to speed up a bit more. The rain was still pouring down on them. And he had to wipe his eyes, to see the road ahead, but it wasn't long until they reached the destination Dante had in mind to go first.

When they stopped, she frowned. He hadn't even asked where she lived and she had totally forgotten to tell him where to go. Did he stop to ask?

"What's wrong?" Devon inquired hesitantly.

As if he had read her mind. "You didn't tell me where to go, so I decided for myself." He grinned, motioning his gloved hand at the pizza joint they parked in front of.

She got off the bike quickly as possible, feeling uncomfortable again under his scrutinizing gaze. "No thanks. I really am grateful, but I need to go. Sorry."

She shook her head at him. She didn't want to accompany him. And she didn't want him to see her in the cold neon lights of the shop. She always looked as miserable as she felt. And somehow, she felt embarrassment at the thought of eating with him.

In that moment she felt more ashamed of herself than ever in the past years. It rendered her speechless.

"Don't worry. My treat." He replied nonchalantly as he dismounted the motorcycle and went towards the door, ignoring her fidgety behavior.

But she took a step back. And another. Her scared eyes fixed on him as he turned to find out what was the matter all of a sudden.

She wiped the raindrops from her face and shook her head.

Her clothes were wet. She was freezing to the bone. Her boots quenched at every step she took and it felt like she was sloshing through mud. But all that, she didn't mind it any longer. All she wanted was to just get away from him as fast as possible.

She wasn't prepared for so much kindness, she wouldn't let this worm into her unsteady being as it was. It hurt. A lot. She could deal with cold and wretched, but not with his the genuinely worried expression he suddenly gave her.

Dante frowned deeply, as he saw her face for real in the light from the shop. Then and there, it hit. He had met her before. It hit him like a stroke of lightning. He recognized the face, though it had changed quite a bit. She had lost weight since that time.

Dante not so much observed it on purpose, but being wary and focussed most of the time, paying attention to the smallest of details, simply came with his not so human side.

It had been a rainy day, of course. He remembered the paper bag, drenched on the pavement and all the cans that had clattered to the ground. Her small hands trying to pick them all up and failing. And her face, that had given him a thankful smile after he had helped her carry them.

He remembered her clearly now. The lost soul from before and why he had stopped to help her. Because this actually hadn't been the first time he had laid eyes on her, not the second. It all came back. The haunting empty eyes of human he didn't care about.

But now she seemed a mere shadow of that former self, thin and dirty. What had happened? Dante's train of thought abruptly halted, when he heard her speak, telling him she needed to go.

"I'm sorry." She muttered, turned and sprinted off into the night. Just like that.

Dante stood there dumbfounded. .Hell.

Strange girl. Where did she think she was going? Did she already live around here?

He had the urge to follow after her, but to what end? He wouldn't turn creepy and chase a random kid around the city. Might mean more trouble than it would eventually be worth it.

He was to old for this shit. So all he did was shrug at the odd behaviour and go inside. He would order take out and bring it home with him. At least there it would be appreciated. Not so much by Vergil maybe, but by Nero all the more.


	2. a chance meeting

Chapter 1 - A Chance Meeting

* * *

The third time Dante met her, he was dead set on satisfying his slowly growing need to find out more. The image of the running shadow of a miserable, drenched woman had burned itself into his mind.

Early in the morning, after Nero and had finished an insultingly easy job, Dante had more observed the younger hunter than actually taking action, they had decided to reward themselves with a delicious sweet treat for breakfast.

Both men were seated comfortably in a yet empty cafe, Nero had come across on of his many curious excursion after moving here, turning it into his favorite place to satisfy his nearly insatiable sweet tooth, which he shared with Dante.

It was a cosy, small waffle house and bakery, nothing more nothing less. To the older one's delight, the staff still went out of their way to make him a strawberry sundae, though it wasn't on the menu initially and certainly not a breakfast item either., but the ingredients to serve him am ice cream cup were nonetheless available. So he had shamelessly voiced his request to the busty middle-aged waitress and had succeeded in hilariously charming her into making an exception for him.

Nero had just rolled his eyes in annoyance, though he couldn't help the amused grin nonetheless. In addition, he was simply amazed at the fact of how easily Dante had wrapped her around his finger in no time.

Great. Nero just knew from now on, he would never hear the end of it. He gritted his teeth at the inevitable outcome. All the female personnel was excessively and openly fawning over the, in their opinion, handsome customer and this wasn't even exaggerated.

They surely wouldn't leave Nero alone anymore about the older devil hunter.

Fantastic.

Chances were slim to none to find a joint as good as this again, where he could eat his waffles and pancakes in peace and quiet. So, yeah. He would have to put up with that. And if it would be turn out to be much, he would simply tell them what a dirty manwhore Dante was. That ought to do the trick for sure. Nero was still absolutely clueless, how the female minds could work.

Dante on the other hand greedily gulped his ice cream down, mentally cheering at his success, without much chewing and Nero watched in slight disgust. He had his headphones on, so he could fully concentrate on his own task of eating these delicious waffles drenched in syrup and topped with enough whipped cream to upset the stomach. And without having to listen the petty chatter around him.

Dante, for once silent and content, still watched many a passer-by outside until one in particular gained his undivided attention. His face was a display between surprise and somehow relief, as he observed this particular woman, scuffling her tired feet along the pavement. Same brown unlaced boots. Grey dirty jeans. Jacket with frayed ends. Filthy, red backpack. Brown dull hair in a messy ponytail.

"What's wrong now?" Nero asked, pulling his headphones down in the process, intently watching Dante's tensed body.

"Oh, just thought I saw someone." Dante muttered absent-mindedly, eyes still following her movement carefully. He pursed his lips, considering his options. He shouldn't really feel bothered by it. So many people walked around like this. He couldn't help them, and their disillusioned haunting eyes, every time he saw one. And even trying would be exhausting and futile and a burden.

He gave Nero a brief, thoughtful once over from the corner of his eye. The younger devil hunter was staring outside as well to find the source of Dante's interest to no avail.

She must be close to Nero's age, Dante mused. And well, Nero got lucky, because he actually found someone to help and accompany him through his, to this day, darkest period of his still young life. Many people didn't have that luxury. Apparently she didn't have it at all. And the way it seemed, from their first meeting to now, things never turned out well for her in the end.

Another look at the pure soul that Nero was, who had to experience more darkness than most at his age, did it for Dante. No one this young should have suffer if he could help it.

Nero had been on the verge of spiralling into chaos, thrown out of his home and chased away from Fortuna, and no money to boot since his former employer, The Order of the Sword, lay in shambles. Nero could have ended up like this. No home, no family, nothing.

Nothing, but a red backpack and dirty clothes. Dante didn't want that, if he could help it.

"Someone for the night?" Nero asked with in a mocking tone. He had lost count of how many times he witnessed Dante ogling women. So this time it surely wasn't anything different. But after a few seconds, Dante's indignant hard stare for once changed his initial thought.

"Demon...?" Nero became nervous, aware of Dante's strained attention.

"No. Just someone I met. I'm curious is all." No, he was worried, but wouldn't admit it to Nero, let alone himself.

Dante swiftly rose to his feet and was off in a matter of seconds.

Nero let his silverware fall onto the half eaten pancakes, starting to seriously become befuddled at the odd behaving man. Words floated across the vicinity. Something along the line's of Nero having to pay the bill and go home alone. He slumped back into his seat, mouth still open in disbelief.

"What the fuck...?"

Well, the old man could do whatever he wanted, truth be told. Nero did not delude himself to be able to ever change that either. Dante was a grown man, though Nero couldn't help the small smile forming on his lips. Yeah, whatever.

The red devil could and would go chasing after skirts whatsoever. Nero knew, he didn't have to worry about him anyway, so he eventually didn't let it bother him longer than necessary and went back to silently finish his waffles.

"So, we meet again." The voice sounded highly pleased and amused and sure as hell, a Cheshire grin was prominent on his face. She eyed him suspiciously, but felt herself relax as she recognized it was only him. Again.

"So, you're a stalker." She tried to sound unimpressed and decided to get past the man, who had apparently been waiting for her on the corner of the street. But she was highly disappointed when he fell into step next to her.

"Three time's the charm. Or so I've been told." He reasoned unaffected, as she stoically walked on.

The young woman hardly resisted the urge to stare at him in all his already familiar, captivating appearance. What did she do do gain his attention in the first place? The thrilled feeling he incited within her betrayed her abundantly. He remembered her. And the woman could keep from smiling to herself.

"The offer still stands. My treat." Dante said with a gentlemanly wave of his hand, succeeding to sound profoundly harmless. But he saw that ghost of a small smile.

"No offence, but you're crazy." She had stopped dead to brusquely tell him this, intending to shoo him away. Not because she didn't want to, but to spare her any more embarrassed moments about her overall state. She prayed he would get the hint and leave.

He did not. "None taken. Truth be told, I've been called worse." Point completely missed, for he chuckled lowly. His smile didn't falter in the slightest, and somehow she knew he wasn't joking.

She proceeded to walk and sped up her pace in the process. This was getting more uncomfortable than she could bear. But of course he had no trouble keeping up with her. Compared to her he was a giant. Where it would take her two steps to cover the distance, he only needed one. How big was he exactly? 6 feet? More?

"I don't know you enough to trust you." She huffed, strained from keeping up the pace as it is.

"But we've met already." He reasoned quite factually, as if these short encounters where worth anything. "And, may I remind you, you were allowed to ride my bike. That's something most women would pay for." Oh damn.

He bit his lower lip, looking away, while cringing hard at his own stupidity. He didn't mean to say that. But he couldn't help it at all, the charming natural flirt he was. With her though, it wouldn't get him anywhere he believed.

"Yeah well, go on ahead. I've got no money. And I won't ride with you ever again." Why wouldn't he leave her alone? She made it more than clear, she had no interest in accompanying him.

"You keep telling yourself that." A lewd smile crept upon his face, to which she answered with an incredulous look. Was he for real?

Dante could have stuck his foot in his mouth. Damn, that sounded so wrong. He wasn't interested in her that way. Damn it. Frustration slowly bubbled up inside him.

He turned serious all of a sudden. "Hey, sorry kid. Wait." He wanted to reach out and stop her from the frantic pacing, but it seemed she had anticipated the action, and quickly hauled her arm out of his reach and shoot him a warning look as both stopped to stare at each other.

When he retracted his arm she turned to briskly carry on to get away, but sure as hell he was beside her again in a matter of seconds. "What is the matter with you?" She snapped.

"Would you just stop for a second?"

"Why won't you leave me alone?" The young woman was frustrated, but so was he.

"Would you stop answering my questions wit questions?"

The ridiculousness of the whole situation was grinding down on her, making her want to scream at him and his idiotic grin. But instead, she heaved a sigh, dead set on simply ignoring him. Causing a scene wouldn't her anything good, but just draw to much unwanted attention.

"Look..." he tried to give her his most serious face, much like Vergil would look, all solemn and dignified, minus the occasional death glare of course. "I just wondered if you would grab a bite to eat with me. I know this fantastic waffle house down the street." He jabbed his finger over his shoulder, looking smug over the idea, he blatantly stole from Nero just now.

She groaned in defeat, crossing her arms over her chest, after she finally halted mid step very much to his favor. "Why?" She demanded rigidly. "Why would you do that? What if I even don't like waffles?" Oh she did. But the luxury wasn't hers so she hadn't eaten anything close to waffles in years. Her mouth unwillingly began to water. A frustrated sigh escaped her lips.

"So, you implying it's down to the decision where to eat?" And here, she realized, how genuinely pleased over himself he seemed. "Pick whatever you want. I don't mind, as long as it's pizza or ice cream." Dante flashed her a thousand megawatt smile that started to melt away her icy demeanour. He was handsome, and he was well aware of that, so much she knew by now. On the other hand, his forwardness wasn't putting her off either. She felt her mouth twitch with a hint amusement.

"Ooh, is that a smile? It is, isn't it?" He asked, delighted at her attempt to fight it, but to no avail. He clapped his hand, feeling to finally having something accomplished. "I'm Dante, by the way." He dropped his name in a more low and gentle voice.

Dante, she mused. It suited him. No ordinary name for a not so ordinary man. It strangely fit him perfectly.

He motioned at her with his index finger. "Well, that's the part where you tell me yours."

"Devon.." She managed nothing but a mumble.

"Huh? Devil?" Dante asked a bit baffled. Would only one woman in this goddamn world just give him her real name for once?

"Devon." She repeated abashed, her voice a bit steadier.

"Oh, alright. Devon. Pizza or ice cream?"

"But you said waffles...?" She broke off with a sheepish look, knowing full well she fell for his trap ever so gracelessly.

"Right. Your pick, Dev." And with that they turned to walk back to the district that housed all kinds of restaurant and cafes and what not. He briefly wondered if they would catch up with Nero along the way or if the young man had already gone home to pout, because Dante had just upped and left him.

Devon scratched her head, but she really had no idea what she wanted to eat. All she knew, that she was hungry and the sheer mention of food had sent her stomach in an giddy uproar. She hadn't eaten for two days already.

But she was used to it. Used to cramps on the first day and she always tried to fill her belly with water off of the public bathrooms as much as she could. On the second day the hunger had always lessened to a stingy feeling and from the third day on, she didn't feel anything else. But if she kept that up for three more days she would feel unwell and eventually the retching and puking would start.

But she often managed somehow to steal food before that happened. Then came the other bad part, when she finally had snagged some food. The first bites would always be pure torture to her mouth and tongue and the nerves of her mouth in general. Most of the time she needed to remind herself to eat slow and not too much at once or else she would barf the hard acquired food straight back out.

So, when Dante asked her, what she wanted she couldn't tell him, because she simply didn't know anymore what she really had liked. But Pizza would be okay, she guessed. Silently thanking him for providing him with a choice in the first place, or else she would have had a hard time to come up with something.

"Pizza is fine I guess. You seem to like it. I wouldn't want anything, you are not going to eat yourself." Somehow, her appetite for something more savoury was more prominent than for sweet stuff.

He gave her the widest smile possible. "A woman after my own heart after all." Flatterer. Good thing he didn't know how overwhelmed she was with the task of actually having to choose a dinner of some sort. "Stop it." She warned him to cut down the flirty attitude.

"Alright...Whatever." Dante obliged and beckoned her with his right hand to follow him. "C'mon."

Devon took a deep breath, like you do before you take the figurative giant leap. Into ice cold water. She didn't know if this was incredibly brave or downright stupid. Never would she have imagined something like this possible. His bright blue eyes, vivid and almost otherworldly regarded her with a spark of hope. No disdain, no revulsion. She couldn't detect any remotely bad vibe off him. Truly, this seemed a remarkable rare gift.

Normally, people acted like she didn't even exist. And she always refrained from sitting in crowded places and begging for money. The little pride she had left wouldn't allow that. Never would she beg for anything, maybe not even her life, as poor as it was. Never.

Stealing wasn't okay, sometimes though her only option available and she wasn't proud of that either. Few shop owners always gave her something to come around when she visited, so she could keep stealing to a minimum. She occasionally stole expired food from the trash cans of the local supermarket. Since she made her rounds in the more wealthy area of the city it had become better in terms of searching for food but worse when it came to people's attitude towards her in general.

Some were more subtle, but most outright detested her, but Devon taught herself to care less. What did they know? All these people, that came here years after the incident of that strange tower and had no idea how awful it had been.

"Hey, did you hear what I said?" Dante waved his hands in front of her eyes to get her attention.

"Sorry. I..uh.."

"We're here." He stated as he approached a green double door with two tiny yellowed windows, holding it open so she could enter in front of him, before he followed and let it swing back into place.

The smell of fresh food hit her completely unprepared. This must be heaven. She couldn't believe she would actually eat something fresh, and warm and handmade in a long time. Dante greeted the man behind the counter with an amicable short handshake. "How are you doing, Cesare? Business good?"

The man behind the counter smiled broadly at both of his customers, informing Dante that all was well. "Quite early, are you?" He inquired furthermore, with a curious as to what Dante had in tow.

Dante shrugged. "Eh, you know me." That Cesare did indeed, so he wasn't all that surprised. Dante's craving for pizza exceeded anything possible and he had stopped wondering about it a long time ago.

"Well, suit yourself. Your table is free." The older, chubby man with the thinning grey hair replied and gestured to the far end of the cosy pizza place, which could be right out of a cliché movie. It was exactly how one would imagine it. Red and white squared tablecloth included.

"What do you wanna drink?" Dante asked her, as she still tried to take in the scene. He had lead her to a table far off, that was apparently _Dante's table,_ and sat her down, while he kept standing to fetch something to drink first.

"Water, please."

Dante quirked one brow at her. "Seriously?"

Devon hesitantly nodded. She didn't know what else she should come up with, since Dante's question had caught her off guard, before she could even settle down properly without gawking. The smell made her dizzy. She was so damn hungry and it was hard to focus on anything else than her stomach, demanding for food in a painful manner.

First prize for the awkward girl of the day goes to Devon, she thought embarrassed. Well, to skip this quickly, she would have to be bolder and act like a damn normal person for once. "Just surprise me, okay?" She said, trying to smile, despite her tinted cheeks.

"Gotcha." He made some silly finger guns, getting a shy smile in return.

Devon was glad they were seated a bit more secluded so she had time to scan the restaurant with wide eyes. There were tables lined along the large windows of the shop and opposite more table separated by wooden dividers.

The only table off from that seating scheme was the one she and Dante occupied right now. Which made her think, that this actually was Dante's _Dante table._ Maybe he also didn't like attention. Especially when he was eating.

Dante came back with a bottle of beer in one hand and a huge Milkshake decorated perfectly with whipped cream and shaved chocolate and half a strawberry on top. A drinking straw stuck in it as well. She was taken aback by the huge glass and the neat decorations.

"Cesare said, for you it could only be a strawberry milkshake and nothing else." He winked at her baffled face. She looked past Dante, to the aforementioned Cesare who gave an apprehensive smile and a wave of his hand.

Devon chuckled as Dante put down a huge glass right in front of her nose. "How am I supposed to drink all of this by myself?"

"Wait until you see the pizza." He warned her amused as he settled down opposite of her, casually whipping out another straw from the pocket of his coat. He pouted at the kink it had received so quickly, and looked hilariously concentrated, putting it on the table attempting to straighten it back.

Devon sniggered at him. This guy really was something else.

"I can't resist strawberries anyway, so just go as far as you can, I'll gladly have the rest of it." He waved the straw before her eyes.

The whole situation had a very surreal feeling to her, as she tried to process that this was indeed happening. To her of all people. He was a decent guy after all. And attentive. Mindful. And handsome.

"Do you like olives?"

Devon pondered the question for a moment, before she tentatively nodded.

"Well, too bad. You won't get any. I hate those." He joked in fake disgusted voice, egging her out of her shell with every passing moment. She even let out a small laugh. The way he looked was simply adorable.

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Just making conversation, since you don't seem to be good at it. But luckily for you good ol' Dante is, or this would be pretty awkward." He took a large gulp from his beer and watched her over the rim of the glass. Her glance wavered, before she lowered her head in a somewhat saddened manner.

How could she be good at talking? This was the longest she ever talked to anyone in weeks or even month, she didn't really know very much to her dismay. He definitely had hit a nerve and it angered her. What did he know anyway? Cocky smart ass.

It seemed like Dante's tactic worked perfectly as her suddenly defying stare hit him. _Okay, shy girl. Out with it._ His stare demanded silently. But he was disappointed.

"I'm just not comfortable around strangers." Devon said in a small voice. She wouldn't snap at him, he was to nice a guy and did not deserve if she did so. Especially not, when he just invited her over pizza. Whatever she looked like, she still remembered to be polite. Even if it was along the lines of self preserving aspect for now. Don't bite the hand, that feeds.

"Here I thought, we were already past that." Dante crossed his arms, flaunting another thousand mega watt smile.

Devon didn't really know, what to reply. Instead she took a large sip of the strawberry milkshake, she still hadn't touched and her eyes went wide. She heard his throaty chuckle from across the table, as he saw her fighting with common sense to not gulp the whole damn thing down in one go.

Apparently, Heaven these days tasted like sweet strawberries.

"This is so good!" Unchecked, for the first time since their arrival, she beamed at him. Dante slouched back with a satisfied expression, arms behind his head. "Thought so."

After a few minutes of less uncomfortable silence as she simply tried to focus and savor the heavenly taste of the milkshake, the pizza arrived. One huge pizza on a hot stone plate, which made it look fairly classy. It already was sliced into easy to handle triangles, but plates were set next to it for good measure. Dante rubbed his hands welcoming his favorite food of all times past and present and probably future.

"Well, dig in." He said as he helped himself to a piece, which he simply folded once lengthwise and stuffed it into his mouth. Devon considered it for moment to eat it with knife and fork, but then changed her mind and grabbed a napkin before mimicking his action. She heartily bit into the pizza and the hot cheese instantly burned the roof of her mouth. She choked, but kept it inside puffing her cheeks until she managed to chew and swallow it.

Dante openly laughed at her antics. God, wasn't she the cutest thing he had ever seen. "Careful..." He said in between laughs. And Devon just wondered at how he was able to devour his hot pizza almost as a whole.

She quickly took another sip from the milkshake to cool her sore mouth. It was so hot, she didn't even taste anything. She frowned slightly at the food on her flat hand and decided to give it a few more minutes, before trying again.

After a few blows and reluctant baby bites she decided it was cool enough to actually take a good chunk out of it. It tasted like tomatoes, salt, squishy dough, mushrooms, salami, aromatic cheese and spices she didn't recognize. Had pizza always tasted this good?

Devon had to admit her memory was getting fuzzier and fuzzier. And right now she was just mind blown. "So good." She praised the food in between bites.

Dante proudly jabbed his thump at his own chest. "Of course. Trust me, I am the pizza expert in this town. I know every pizza joint and believe me when I say, that this is the best."

"Ha, okay." Devon sounded amused. "I believe you." She added more seriously and quickly grabbed another slice, as Dante had already finished his third and went without any sign of remorse for number four.

Damn, he was fast. But she had to remind herself to not upset her stomach. When she finished her second, she felt pretty full already. But nonetheless she went for another. She knew she would be sorry after that, but it was the best food in such a long time, she stoically pushed her worries aside.

"Easy there, Dev. How long haven't you eaten? Didn't want that stomach of yours to get upset." Dante remarked in a most casual matter, careful enough to not sound patronizing. Still, he had aimed for letting her know how he was well aware of her circumstances. There was no easy way to break it to her, and who knows how it made her feel. But he tried to be as impartial as possible.

She peered up at him from food. But other than that, she masked her discomfort pretty well, he thought. No reaction to the use of a nickname whatsoever, he noticed somewhat discouraged.

Devon was no idiot. And she knew, he wasn't either. Of course he had already drawn his own conclusions. The woman knew, that he knew. And instead of bringing up her walls around her to evade the shame she felt, as he inclined his head awaiting her rebuke, the female surprised him, when she simply nodded. "I know..."

She expected the inevitable questions from him. The whys and hows and what ifs.

But they never came. Devon eyed him suspiciously, but he was busy again with eating his fifth slice.

Dante wasn't a people's person in contradiction to public belief. He had resorted to stay within a well filtered circle of equals. But that certainly didn't mean he couldn't read his opposites like open books. Well, only Vergil was the odd one out. And it was even more of paradox, for they were supposed to be twins. All that aside though, if it was a gift attained by his demonic lineage or simply an enhanced human trait he couldn't say.

But he could say, the human in front of him in this moment was intriguing, but still easy to decipher. And he congratulated himself for making the right choices. She wasn't as broken as he had assumed at first sight. She had not given up entirely, she might have convinced herself she had, but the spark he had encountered in her told him otherwise.

He finished his last piece of pizza on that thought and Devon, who had stopped at her third, shoved the rest of her milkshake over. "I can't anymore." She grinned apologetically, taking him up on his previous offer. "I'm stuffed. But it was great. Thanks, Dante."

"Don't mention it." He waved at her dismissively, then plunged his own straw into the contents of the high glass, sucking the rest of the shake greedily into his mouth. He smirked at her around the straw as she watched him finish it, rather amazed by how much he was able to consume.

When Dante rose, she found herself in brief state of alarm, but eased back realising he simply took on the task of clearing the table, instead of leaving her. Watching him all the way to the counter, she found herself admiring that natural swagger of his, underlined by the lazy wave of his red coat.

Cesare gratefully accepted the dishes and the praise with a slight bow of his head, before he disappeared into what presumably was the kitchen, only to find Dante had waited for him as he came back. They exchanged a few words, Devon couldn't understand, but she definitely caught the look both gave her.

She turned her head away under the pitiful look from the owner, so she missed the smile and the nod he gave Dante, who fumbled around his trench and pants to produce a handful off dollar bills. Devon only looked back up to see how both man exchanged a manly hug, patting each other's back a few times.

Dante returned to her and sat down on his chair. He took a last sip off his beer, then bumped his chest with a mischievous grin and a burp escaped him, to which she answered with a chuckle.

"Well, Devon, I have to leave now. Important business and such. Don't even ask, it's boring anyway." He waved off the question on the tip of her tongue and Devon's mouth snapped shut. He sounded way to amused for her, to believe him one bit. The way he dressed and held himself, she simply knew his job or whatever he was talking about must be anything but boring.

Additionally, he had handled her with enough care to not scratch her almost non existing dignity in the least, so she wouldn't pry either.

"But, if you ever feel hungry again, make sure you come here. Cesare is a good friend of mine and we go way back. And my friends are his friends. So, just come here and he will make you something. Anything you want. The pasta is actually really good as well, at least that's what another friend of mine always says. So give those a try next time." He winked at her with that flirty addictive smile of his.

Nero loved all the pasta dishes to bits and the Kid surely knew his way when it came to food more than enough to be trusted without question.

Devon didn't know what to say, self-consciously wringing her hands in her lap. This was beyond anything, someone in this wretched city had ever done for her. She shook her head multiple times at him, refusing to even consider it. Once was enough. She didn't want this. She didn't want him to care. She would get used to it and then he would forget about her. And she'd become a ghost again.

"What's wrong?" Dante leaned over the table, sporting his trademark but a hint of concern in his voice.

"Why would you do this?" Her chest felt too tight to take a sufficient breath deep enough to not sound meek. Friend, he said. And a friend of his friends, of which he appeared to have a lot. And didn't he seem like quite the person to actually get along well with.

"Because someone has to." Dante replied with a shrug, as if it was most simple thing in the world. "Now, don't give me that look. Don't worry. Just promise me, you will stop by from time to time." And with Cesare, he had someone as back up to look out for her to some extent.

"Okay." She answered with a quivering voice, still fighting the tears that threatened to fall at his offer, too kind to believe. He really was a good person, if you got past his appearance and first impression. He was actually funny and easy to talk to. Exactly the contrary to what she had believed in at first. Weird yes, but a good weird that was endearing somehow.

"And if you're ever in trouble or whatsoever, don't hesitate to tell Cesare. He'll give me a call. Okay?"

"I will." And at her consensus, he rose from his chair stretching his back one time in the process. "Good."

Devon had followed him suit, as he made his way outside after saying good bye to the owner. Once in front of the pizza parlour, Dante turned and put both hands on her shoulders, rooting her in place, fearing she would run off again. "Need a ride?" He gave her reassuring squeeze once he had asked.

"No, I'm good." She lied deliberately to his serious inquiry, but unbeknownst to her he saw through the lie just perfectly. But he decided, that he wouldn't idly jeopardize, what he was trying to accomplish by pressuring her too much in one go. He felt her inward struggle and relented by letting her go with a last pat.

She didn't even know where her feet would take her. Her aim for finding something edible was

discarded for now. She would task herself with revisiting all the known spots she could use for staying the night and other than that she had no clue what to do from now, beside the most significant task at all times. Staying out of trouble.

"Hey, one thing though, since we're becoming friends and all." The mild and maybe not even intentionally suggestive tone let caution define her whole posture instantly, bracing herself for the inevitable outcome she so dreaded. Nothing came for free and it left a bitter taste in her mouth, thinking immediately how she might have been fooled by his initial kindness.

If it wouldn't have been so overly tragic how she was about to loose faith in him because of reasons too severe to be argued with, he would have found it amusing. But it wasn't. "Promise me to be careful out there."

And with these gentle words she felt ashamed of her misjudgement right away. Why couldn't she easily accept the fact he was a nice person. She was bitter, that's why. Because nothing good ever happened, so she found it hard to believe in miracles such as the one standing right in front of her with his thousand megawatt smile, that could melt the strongest resolve to a puddle of lingering disgrace.

But she put on a brave smile. Only for him. "I will. Thanks again...Dante." And before the tears threatened to spill again in this rollercoaster of feeling she was put through by him, she faced away, ready to walk away.

"See you around." He called after her retreating form, as he turned to make his way home in the opposite direction.

Stuffing her hands into her pockets, while walking, she was full aware he left for the districts she wouldn't venture alone anymore.

With her head held high to enjoy the sun for once on a cloudless day, it felt much like a slight turn of fate for her, for he managed to lift some weight off her. Devon experienced a more content feeling spreading throughout her body than in a long time.

She definitely liked the tall man, all clad in red and black, who went by the name of Dante. Very much, she figured. And she replayed his earlier statement over and over in her mind, when she had asked why he did care.

 _Because someone has to,_ he had said. And what an encouraging thought it was. And unsettling to the same amount. It was a dangerous business for the heart.

Also was it frightening her, how she discovered she liked Cesare from the first time she had laid eyes on the middle aged man, with a kind, warm and welcoming attitude. Devon did not feel like confiding in him at all or Dante for that matter just yet.

So if Cesare trusted Dante enough to simply accept a total stranger to randomly show up and get treated on his tap, maybe she could trust him as well. And if she was honest with herself, the moment Dante had picked her up, she had wished for it with all her heart.

She wished, to have at least something familiar and someone she could rely on. A constant in her life, that wasn't for once on the miserable side. She would hang on and see where it would lead, until that she had a lot to think about, her heart left in turmoil because of Dante.


	3. rogue heart

Chapter 2 - Rogue Heart

* * *

Cesare didn't think he'd ever see her again, but he did. So, he kept his promise to Dante and fed her with whatever she wanted. But when she had returned her first time, she had no clue what to choose off the menu and looked much like a lost child, so he gave her his advice and she gladly took his suggestion and went for Spaghetti.

And he soon found out, she was well spoken in her timid way, and able to warm his heart with praising and thanking him a most polite way. He never meddled in the business of the white haired man he learned to call his reliable friend over all the years. And his youngest addition, a young, reserved man named Nero, was as much appreciated as Dante.

Cesare, with his fatherly way, did his best and welcomed Nero to the city and soon enough he came here often by himself just to catch up on things and a good conversation in general. He liked Nero, who seemed more serious than his caretaker, but in very pleasant and mature way.

The few people that Dante tended to have around where all very diverse to say the least, but not entirely unpleasant to have around. Though he knew, they ventured all into business far beyond his imagination. And Cesare never bothered to ask, for he assumed it to be dangerous and not a the right choice of topic for small talk.

He just knew, when trouble would arise, Dante would be there. And when he brought in the girl along, he didn't question Dante's motives for a second. Cesare had eyes as well, which identified her easily enough for what she was. Someone who was lost. What sparked Dante's interest of all things, he wouldn't know.

To Cesare, all there was to know that she needed a good meal once in a while and he was providing it willingly. And Dante always paid good money these days. Cesare had a family of his own to feed and Dante, who had changed quite a bit over the years, never let his tap rise to the amount where it would hurt his business.

The man in red had matured tremendously without loosing his juvenile charm completely. Certainly still not someone to judge easily either. But he had a heart of gold under all this layers of his from time to time versatile character. One good soul to call upon, and the city was positively short on those. In Cesare's eyes, the young woman had more luck to come across Dante of all people than she probably figured.

And when she had returned a second time within a week Cesare was glad, how she still managed to survive unharmed. She only showed up mid week, for this was the least busy time. Cesare quickly saw through the pattern and after a few weeks, he already had her order in the making when she came in, by now always greeting him with a wide smile on her lips.

Sometimes he would visit her table and they had an admittedly awkward kind of small talk. She had been very shy towards him at first, but had shown effort to open up slowly bit by bit. Cesare read her like an open book, he knew she was ashamed of her circumstances.

But Cesare didn't mind at all. She was a civil girl, despite her scuffed looks. She did thank him profusely everytime and any time she would leave. And he would watch her with a worried expression and ask himself where she would go tonight. The colder the year went, the worse she would look when she came by.

Today it was no different. The evening was chill and windy and the relentless rain would soon turn to snow. When he heard the doorbell and saw her small frame enter, he felt relieved. But a closer look made him second guess that immediately. She had a wool beanie on her head, pulled low enough, so the rim shaded her eyes in very suspicious way.

Cesare saw it nonetheless. Her face was smeared with dirt or worse, dried blood, he wasn't entirely sure. Her fuzzy hair stuck our from under the beanie and it looked dark and sticky. She avoided to openly face him, and the way she carried herself told him something was alarmingly off with her movement.

But the quiet little one she was, she smiled bravely and strictly went for the bathroom, answering his greeting with just a brief wave of her hand. Cesare looked at his waitress. "If she doesn't come out in ten minutes, please go and check on her." His blonde staff nodded, before she went to set Devon's table.

Minutes ticked by and Cesare became nervous, but soon enough Devon reappeared from the restrooms. It seemed like she had washed the sticky substance from her hair and had cleaned her face, but the shadow under her eye had remained the same. She was keen on putting up her usual behaviour, so Cesare masked his worried expression to not alarm her more than she already was.

Devon winced as she sat down. God, this hurt like hell. And the way Cesare had been staring at her, she knew he already had recognized the sorry state she was in. The city was full of bastards. And today she had been granted the doubtful pleasures of meeting such detestable scumbags. Her backpack was gone. And with it the few, completely worthless but yet dear things she had possessed.

Devon let out a deep sigh and slumped forward, using her arms as a cushion on the table. Fucking idiots. All she could have done was to run and hide. And she did exactly that. But not before they managed to get her.

She felt miserable, her hands, sides, face, legs, just about everything hurt. And after she had checked herself in the restroom, she knew she looked as nasty as she felt.

The waitress brought her dish and gave a short consoling look. But Devon didn't feel like doing her the favour and ignored it completely. Everybody could shove their sympathy up their asses.

It would heal, she would move on. It was just that simple. Devon thanked her nonetheless for the food and to her relief the blonde woman left her alone without further notice.

* * *

"Did she say anything?" Dante asked the owner of the pizza joint, after he told him of Devon. And that she was not alright. Not at all.

"No, and I don't think she will. She just pretends there's nothing wrong with her." Cesare explained, sounding worried. As he had promised the white haired man, he had called him right away. He wouldn't let the poor girl go anywhere all bruised up and alone tonight.

Dante clicked his tongue in annoyance. Damn girl. He had made her promise, she would stay out of trouble. Her luck, that Cesare actually cared. And while they talked, he paced around in front of his desk. He didn't know, if he should be angry or not. He thanked Cesare profusely for the head up and slammed the receiver down on the hook.

Yup. Definitely angry.

But on another note, she still had voted to show up and get something to eat, after being beaten up or so Cesare believed what had occurred to her. Maybe he should even praise her, for being considerate. He banged his fist on the desk and groaned.

"What's the matter with you? Did your date turn you down the last minute?" Nero mocked him, sneering over the backrest of the couch he slouched on lazily while some eastern flickered across the huge TV.

"Oh, shut up." Dante snapped and Nero scowled at him for receiving such blunt answer. So, Dante was obviously in a foul mood. His curiosity spiked up at that. Something had to be up.

The older devil suddenly grabbed his coat and the keys for the bike.

Nero whined at that. For how many times Dante had told him he didn't like the bike, he sure as hell took it pretty often for a ride. "Dante, don't break it again. It was a lot of work to repair." He warned with a sour look on his face.

"I'll be careful." Dante assured the younger one. And he really meant it. Nero had put a lot of time and effort to restore the old motorcycle. Were it depending on Dante, the thing would still rot in his garage.

"Not even a scratch, you hear?" Nero called after him, as he sat up to watch Dante heading for the door. "Where are you going anyway? Was this a business call?"

"No, I'm going out." He informed Nero, who wore a confused look on his face.

"Okay..." Nero replied and shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch and returned his attention to the TV. Whatever. He wouldn't question Dante about with whom or what he would stay the night. It simply wasn't his business nor was he one wanting to brag about it in the first place.

Dante rode his bike like the devil he was. He felt bitter and angry. The red beast roared inside his belly, clawing at his insides to find a way to vent his frustration. He sped up, violently turning a corner and the bike lurched under him. He repositioned his body to not fall off and ground his teeth hard. He forced himself to gain control over his emotions and to not manhandle the bike and crash it completely in the process.

Soon enough he reached his destination and was about to jump off the bike letting it just fall to the concrete. But he got a hold of himself in the last second. His anger wouldn't achieve anything. And he promised Nero to watch it.

He stopped, stilled and sat upright for a moment to calm himself down. He breathed in and out several times, looking up and closing his eyes. He could find and hit something later as often as necessary, but for now he needed to keep his cool. With a sigh he got off the bike and sauntered into the pizza parlor with his trademark smirk and usual swagger.

Wafts of delicious smells of fresh food met him as he entered. He tipped his head to greet Cesare, who gave him a queasy look. Dante's gaze shifted to his usual spot.

There she sat, hunched over a plate of pasta, eating with her left hand. He frowned upon that, knowing she was right handed, but as soon as he made his way across the room, he understood.

The smell of blood was faint, but it was evident. On his inside his devil released a slow agonizing growl.

He was one step away to ask her where and when those idiots had attacked her. He wanted to find them, make them suffer. His inner demon whispered all the wretched things he could do to make them pay thoroughly.

It would be so deliciously satisfactory to have them at his mercy. And he would show none to their despicable actions. The only thought that held him back at that moment was, that no human would be able to last long under his devil's punishment. Not nearly long enough to even grasp a fraction of his hatred towards them. They wouldn't survive long enough for him to break every solid bone in their mushy bodies. And in the end it wouldn't be worth it. All he would do, was to get the word out to the right people and hope that the city would clean up after itself and it's human scum.

For now, he needed his temper in check and pushed the thoughts far into the back of his head as he plopped down ungracefully startling Devon, who clearly had paid no attention the whole time.

Her head snapped up at the uninvited intruder and her mortified, comical look almost made him laugh. But the smell of blood halted his action. It was unsettling and he would have liked nothing better than to yank her up and inspect her for the source of the coppery smell.

He heaved a sigh – calm and cool, like always.

"What, no milkshake to the dish?" His voice was as smooth and mocking as ever.

Devon looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights. His stern, scrutinizing stare was a harsh contrast to the nonchalance of his question. It made her feel guilty. She tried to cover the bruise on the right side of her face with resting it in the palm of her right hand but the overall movement made her wince. Dante rolled his eyes and snatched her by the wrist.

"Who did this?" He growled, but Devon simply tried to yank her arm out of his grasp. It was no use, his grip only tightened to a painful degree.

"What the hell, dude!" Devon hissed at him with a wound up expression, eyes darting back and forth between his strong hold and his face. He let her go as she tried once more to pull herself free with as much strength as she could gather. The momentum of her own movement almost knocked her off the chair, not entirely anticipating he would let her go so abruptly.

Dante controlled his anger as he repeated his former question in a steady low voice. "Who did this?"

Another pointy glare was sent her way that let her know his patience was at it's end. She shrugged at him. "Like I know. Just some drunken idiots. Too drunk to get down to the real fucking business." She cast her eyes down, to avoid those piercing blue eyes.

She had been lucky, that those three bastards hadn't been able to do much. So she got away with a few cuts and bruises. Not like that never had happened before.

When one of them had shoved the knife in her face, her instincts had kicked in dead set on survival and escape. They had wanted to cut her into pieces but the sluggish drunken attempt had left her an opening to kick and bite and punch until she was free to high-tail out of the situation as fast as her weakened state had made it possible.

And the only safe place she could think of as she frantically ran for her life was Cesare's Pizza Parlor. She should have known, he would call Dante.

"Like hell you are." His voice was softer now. "Eat up. And then, you're coming with me." He declared in steely determination, leaving no room for open discussion.

"Certainly not." She snorted defiantly, observing how Dante gritted his teeth, but like she cared. No way would she go with him anywhere. "I can take care of that myself."

Dante's up to this point friendly expression disappeared, he had it with her. "Here I thought you were actually smart. Do you have any means to get that cleaned up? Look at yourself, you're dirty all over and drenched to the bone again. It will get infected, if you continue to sleep in the gutter. And I can assure you, it will hurt. A lot more than it does now. And then you wouldn't be able to move. And if someone catches you in that sorry state, there is no way you get away so easily next time around."

Yes, Devon knew all too well. Yet, she forced herself not to think about that. But especially the deep gashes on her arm worried her. She could feel the stickiness of the drying blood, already glueing her clothes to her skin and it hurt whenever she shifted. Her right side had hurt so badly, when she had tried to lift her arm, she refrained from using it at all.

She also knew damn well, it would get worse. Only the tiny bit left of her dignity solely dictated her actions towards the man opposite her. She couldn't afford to show weakness. To anyone. So why did her eyes betray her, as they started to sting with shameful tears? She silently begged him to stop his explications, but Dante did no such thing,making sure it would hit home.

He witnessed the inward struggle she fought. Of course she didn't trust him. But he had faith in his talent to make people do so. One sympathetic gesture at a time. Not to much. It would only foster her suspicious thinking, if he overdid it. He leaned back in a more relaxed manner and offered her a warm smile. "Eat up, before it gets cold."

Devon slouched back in defeat and did as he told her and he just nodded in appreciation. She awkwardly tried with her left hand, but the task wasn't easy and his staring didn't even begin to make it better, but downright worse. "Be right back." He announced, as he rose from his seating. He would let her finish in peace, sensing her discomfort all over him.

Dante trudged over to Cesare. "Thanks for the call, buddy." He patted the older man on the back, before he sat down on a bar stool.

"Don't mention it." The owner replied and poured Dante a shot, which the devil hunter didn't even need to ask for. He liked the muted concord that had built between them over the years. He tipped the glass to Cesare before downing it. The burning feeling down his throat somewhat eased his inner tension.

"I need to use your phone." Dante informed Cesare as he poured him his second shot. "Be my guest."

There was no way, Devon would manage to ride with him on the bike. She was keen of not letting it show, but she was in pain. He wouldn't risk loosing her on the ride back home. So he had tried to reach Vergil, but to no avail, the dumbass wasn't even home he guessed. So, he had to take up Nero's offer to drive the old Camaro, instead of Vergil.

As highly expected, the boy had been stoked on the spot, because he rarely was offered the privilege to drive anywhere. As good as he was with repairing things, it rivalled his ability to break things equally. Nero was a skilled bastard with guns and swords, wrenches and cooking utensils, but it was a sole mystery to both brothers how he had managed to dent their beloved car twice a week.

Vergil's best guess was to blame it on the nervous energy, always surrounding Nero when he was getting excited. His ability to concentrate properly always diminished in the process. So, naturally, Dante allowed Nero to drive just in worst case scenarios. This came pretty close to one, so Dante made an exception. And to evade Nero's loud cheer, he ended the call quickly.

With the issue of transportation out of the way, he also ordered a few Pizza's as Take-out for later. He had become hungry the moment he had stalked in and he knew Nero would appreciate something to eat when they got back home as well.

Devon had finished her dish and busied herself with watching Dante from under the rim of her beanie. He had walked behind the counter to use the phone. After only a minute he hung back up and, after he received a third shot of whiskey, came back to join her at the table.

"I have someone to pick us up in a few." He informed her casually. Devon inwardly still objected the idea of going with him. Now, he added up to her distress with telling her that he wasn't alone.

Maybe had a girlfriend or even a wife?

Of course, she thought. Someone like him naturally would have someone after all. Devon had already noted from the first time on, how absurdly attractive he was. She pondered over the thought, what she would be like. Why she assumed, it would be his woman to pick them up, she didn't even know. It only seemed logical.

His effortless good looks were prominent to her more than ever. That scruffy beard was driving women crazy far and wide she guessed half amused. He certainly didn't lack in the muscle department, that much she could tell and was immediately ashamed, that she even pondered about how well build he was.

But she also wondered about his age. His eyes sparkled with youth, but the white hair and the stubble always tried to mislead her. If both traits wouldn't be there, she knew it would take away quite a decade. There were no prominent wrinkles, when he smiled. And that he did a lot. His jovial manner still irked her, but over more pleased her at the same time. She simply knew, that there was a man of undiluted cheerfulness.

Dante wasn't oblivious to the once over she gave him, but didn't mind it in the slightest. He even grinned at her, which pull her out of her thoughts immediately. She averted her eyes quickly and coughed, realizing she had been staring at him for God knows how long.

"Look all you want." He leered at her with a chuckle. "I know, I'm damn fine. And before you ask, yes, the hair is natural."

Devon's eyes popped out very much surprised and abashed. "I wasn't about to ask that." She protested rather weakly. God, he was so damn cocky. But his humorous vein eased her tension down to a tolerable level and she found herself smiling back at him.

"Then, what were you about to ask? Come on, shoot. Wouldn't hurt to know a bit more about each other." He tried to encourage her to talk a bit more about herself. He wouldn't be so bold as to just barge into her personal space with a shitload of questions, but that didn't mean he didn't had any to begin with.

The doorbell rang and drew their attention simultaneously towards the entering figure. It wasn't a woman, like Devon had anticipated. No, not at all. But the second he stepped in, it was fairly obvious to which person in the room he belonged to.

To say Devon was perplexed would be the understatement of the year. She blinked a few times, trying to process the younger version of the man sitting in front of her.

He trudged in with an air of nonchalance around him that clearly rivalled Dante's and Devon swallowed hard. His crimson hoodie made the white hair stand out more drastically, than it already did. Both seemed to wear their unusual haircolor with a pride that had no equal. The first thing that came up in her mind was the term _family._

The younger exchanged a few words with Cesare as they shook hands, like the good acquaintances there obviously were.

"Hey, kid." Dante called out to him and he turned the second he had heard the voice. He didn't miss a beat in his steps, but the shadow of a doubt flitted across his smooth, young features.

Nero deliberately overheard the use of his most hated word, as he approached Dante, sitting together with a woman.

He gave her a brief disconcerting look, small enough to go unnoticed by her, not by Dante though. "Nero. Meet Devon." The older man introduced her with a wide gesture of his right arm. Nero gave her a single nod of approval, without so much as an indifferent glance.

Devon mimicked his action, but he already had focussed his full attention back on Dante. She was taken aback by his remote demeanour, but tried not to read too much into it. It seemed he shared the looks with Dante, but not his amicable approach.

Nothing to it, she tried to reassure herself. Though, somewhere deep down, she had almost anticipated and expected this and couldn't help the slight sting of disappointment.

Not all people were acting friendly towards her, and she made it a point to simply don't have high expectations anymore. On the contrary. Most were unfriendly and just once in a time she would meet someone like Dante.

Well, she quickly masked her disappointed look decently enough. Because Dante was something close to a real opportunity to actually have someone nice to interact with so far. She refused to let it pass so easily. She wanted this, as awkward and hurtful as it would get.

"Ready to go?" Nero inquired with a sullen look, shifting from one foot to another impatiently. He was hungry and hadn't been to keen of getting up from his favorite spot on the couch at home. He hadn't told Dante to shove it, only when he heard he had permission to drive the Camaro. He loved the car to bits.

"Ask Cesare if the pizzas are ready, kid. We're ready in a minute."

Nero sauntered off without another word, but his mood had just brightened with the mention of food. The cup noodles he ate at home, hadn't been even the slightest bit sufficient. Hot cheesy pizza would last to compensate for heading out into the ice cold evening.

Devon tried to stand up and winced about the effort it took, before plopping back down on her seat. Her whole body felt sore with the unwelcomed movement, credit to the comfortable position she had been in throughout the last hour. Her body protested harshly, but before she knew, Dante had put his arm around her waist, surprisingly soft enough to not induce more pain.

Devon was stunned by the gentle but secure hold he had on her, admiring his sense of intuition. With joint effort she stood up and Dante steered her towards the counter and back to Nero. Cesare just came back from the kitchen, piling four pizza cartons onto Nero's arms. Dante fumbled around his pockets and protruded several crumpled up dollar bills, handing them over to Cesare while thanking him once more.

Nero, aware there were actually four cartons in his hands, began to realize that Devon would accompany themselves back home. This was the person, Dante had been supposed to pick up. His head whipped around to the two figures and Nero's eyes widened noticeably. His annoyed expression softened a fraction, when he saw how Dante had to hold her so she was able to walk, lest even stand.

What the hell happened to her? Nero swore, he rarely encountered someone so dishevelled in his life. Her appearance led him to believe, someone might had dragged her through a shitload of mud and then left her lying in a ditch.

Her clothes were ragged and dirty, beyond any recognition of the original, undamaged state, they once had been in.

Her worn out boots were a dark brown leather. She didn't even bother to tie up the laces properly, they were chafed and would rip any minute anyway, he guessed. The upper layer of the dull leather had started to peel away here and there.

Not to mention the sorry state of the loose sweater and jacket. Both sported small holes and dirt up the point it was actually hard to guess the colors. Overall, she looked to be in a worrisome condition.

He also noted the bruises on her hands and face.

Oh.

Devon felt the pair of unusual, light blue eyes on her and despite feeling like shit, she raised her head and did everything to look as prideful as she definitely did not feel at this very moment. She prayed he would stop staring at once. Dante watched the wordless exchange highly amused.

As much as Nero loved to give him lip, Dante rightfully predicted his more prominent protective and soft side would kick into gear, as soon as Devon accompanied them on their way home. Nero was a kind hearted person, only a bit stubborn and fickle from time to time.

There was no way Dante would give Nero the bike and he didn't even waste a single thought on the possibility of leaving it behind. They went outside after they said goodbye to the owner and the chill air left Devon shuddering in Dante's grasp. Thankfully the car just stood right outside and Dante walked her to the passengers side, opened the door and only let go of her when she was seated and he even bent down to put the seatbelt on.

Devon blushed at his closeness as he tucked the belt into place. Her brain only noted the clean smell of soap mixed with something she didn't really recognize. She just knew he smelt good. And she must have smelled like weeks old trash cans.

And that was the point, where the pink rose to her cheeks. Embarrassed, she pressed herself into the seat to bring at least some distance between them.

"There you go." Dante patted the seatbelt, after he had secured her into the car. "I'll be right behind you. Meet you back at the shop." That information was for Nero, who was busy putting the pizza's onto the back seat.

Devon though stiffened at his words, awfully frightened. He was about to leave her alone with the other one? And shop? What shop? Her fingers twitched and fumbled with the seatbelt. In this very moment, she really didn't want to be here any longer. Dante put his hands over hers to calm the panicked movement.

"Relax, Sweetheart. Nothing's going to happen to you. Nero is a good kid."

"Don't call me that." The aforementioned one retorted sharply, climbing onto the driver's seat. And it left Devon wondering, why Dante kept calling him kid.

Nero huffed and peered over at her before he turned the key in the ignition and the beast came to life with a deep, full-bodied purr. Dante closed the door on her side and knocked on the roof, signalling them they were good to go. The car started to move and Devon found herself staring outside to keep herself from staring at the young man next to her.

"You cold?" Nero asked her after a while of awkward silence, using a much softer voice than while conversing with Dante. It was slightly deeper and much more gentle. She hummed a yes and he turned the heating up to full capacity. The dull aching of her body made it easy to refocus as well. She clenched and unclenched her stiff fingers making the scrapes and cracks, where she had tried to crawl away on the rough concrete, burn like hell.

"What happened to you? And how do you know Dante?" Nero's voice broke the silence once again, that the two strangers inevitably shared.

"Drunk idiots. Thought it was a good idea to mug me." Devon had to laugh humourlessly at the thought. "Me, of all people. I own even less then every single drunk ass fuckhead on this god damn planet." Devon was surprised with herself as she voiced out her anger and frustration quite colourful.

To her surprise she heard Nero chuckle. And when she finally turned her head to look at him, he gave her a loop sided grin. And when she saw him do this, she returned it. And so the proverbial ice was broken.

"Did Dante get his hands on them?" He inquired with a raised eyebrow, shortly glancing at her before he turned back to face the road ahead.

"No, no. I went to Cesare after I managed to escape. And he obviously dropped the dime to Dante. And that was, how he caught me. And about your other question, we met several times before. He sort of helped me out." Devon's voice became small with the last sentence. He did, didn't he?

.Time.

Dante had helped her every time, if she wanted it or not.

"Well, he's just that kinda guy. Don't read to much into it. It comes with the job description. But he really has a knack for getting people out of trouble." Nero told her with a solemn look on his handsome face, which was in no way inferior to Dante's. Devon scolded her stupid brain for that peculiar observation, thinking it was very much out of place. There were other things to worry about.

She pondered for a moment. Nero seemed willing enough to answer, so she would not pass up the opportunity to play 25 questions about Dante and the intriguing man he was.

"Is he your father?"

Whatever Devon had assumed to get for an answer, it surely wasn't the one to follow.

Nero did a double take, if she was serious. The honest look on her face appeared to be a major yes. He couldn't help to just guffaw out loud. "He's not even old enough for that." His laugh turned to a chuckle. "Oh, wait until you see his face, when I tell him you said that."

Devon shrunk back into her seat, kind of miffed. "Glad, I'm adding to your amusement. Brother then...?"

Nero still looked very much amused. "No. Nothing of that sort. We aren't related at all. We're just house mates and colleagues." He offered her that much information, but apparently didn't want to go into much detail after all.

Devon didn't buy it. He was definitely making fun of her. "Explain the hair?"

How much of a coincidence could it be to have two guys share the same fascinating hair color and even live in the same city under the same roof and to top it all, they worked together...?

Not a chance, pal, she thought. She let her eyes leisurely roam his whole appearance, since the awkward tension had dissolved rather quickly and made her a tad more confident.

Devon admitted, she had to revise her opinion of his semblance.

The white hair was pretty much all that tied him to Dante. Nero's face was different. There was really not enough he had in common with the older one. Dante's eyes weren't as round, his nose had a sharper contour and his chin was broader. Nero's nose was quite cute and the tip wasn't that pointy. And his lips were fuller, than to remind her of Dante's thinner mouth, either.

"So, what you're basically saying is, that's all just a coincidence?" At that Nero nodded with a sheepish grin as he briefly scratched his nose with a gloved right hand.

"That hard to believe? The Hair?" He had the audacity to blow a rasperry at her to underline the fallacy of the whole topic " A pigment disorder. Not that unusual, if you ask me." Okay, he did make that up right on the spot and he was rather proud of it. She still eyed him warily though.

And Nero was far from telling her the truth. How he had been experimented on as a child, how he grew up with strange powers. How he got his right arm, how he became the temporary wielder of Yamato and even fused with it, only to eventually become a host for Vergil's tortured soul. And how they finally managed to draw the older devil twin out for good and bind him to Yamato. And to his brother.

She still had those curious eyes on him. Her former shyness dissolved by the minute. Nero really had no clue what else to talk about, so he just focussed on driving, but her voice split his attention between her and the road once more.

"So what was that he said about a shop?" She asked, and Nero felt relief, that she wouldn't question him any further about his connection to Dante.

"Oh, that's where we live. We just call it that, because it has a bar, pool table and such." He shrugged at her. "You'll see for yourself. It isn't as worse as it sounds, really." His aimed to prepare to some extent to the fashionable, stylish strange interior, but his own tension wouldn't ease at all. She still had to meet Vergil.

That would be fun. He'd rather be not there, if he could help it.

Devon on her side got more and more intrigued with every piece of information she received. So, she had to put up with Dante and Nero, when they got there. Then she remembered the pizzas. There were actually four of them. God, no. Was there yet another one she hadn't met yet?

Devon didn't know how to cope with all of that so suddenly. She had been alone for the so long. So company really wasn't a thing she was used to. These short interactions with people were fine, but knowing that she was being brought to a home where people actually lived was beyond her capability of social intercourse, she believed.

She started to shudder involuntarily and winced everytime her injures told her to keep it down. But she couldn't help the frightening thoughts invading her mind.

Too much, too fast. What would happen? How should she behave? How would they treat her anyway? Would they kick her out, because no one really wanted to put up with a stinking wreck of human garbage that they soon found out to be too bothersome in the end?

"Hey..." Nero's soft and concerned voice ripped her out of her fast wrecking thoughts. "You okay? Does it hurt much?"

Devon turned slightly towards him. She shivered violently, despite the heat in the car. And her gaze wandered around aimlessly until her eyes were glued onto his hands on the steering wheel. She couldn't do much about the question that popped up in her mind as to why he was wearing only one glove.

Nero waved that exact hand in front of her face to gain her attention right now and her eyes followed it wearily. "Don't zone out on me. Okay? We're almost there."

"Y-y-yes..yes..." She stumbled over the word, feeling exhausted all of sudden. The food, the warmth, the pain. Her body had a hard time adjusting properly to all of that at the same time.

But Nero didn't miss a beat at her befuddled behaviour. "Just hold on, okay?" He gave her a reassuring smile. Devon closed her eyes and tried to stay still. The shivers slowly lessened as she focused on the deep vibrant purring of the car.

The heating blew into her cold face and warmed it up pleasurably. The shivering stopped. She had succeeded in calming down. But the pain didn't subside much, no matter how she tried to sit. Every movement made it even worse, so she just kept her eyes shut and settled on bearing with it in the end.

Devon didn't know how long it was, maybe the good half of 20 minutes, but it seemed long enough on her end. The car came to a stop and she heard Nero turning the keys and pulling them out of the ignition. The jingle let her crack her eyes open and Nero came into focus with his white slightly messy hair and his still worried expression. He reached down to unbuckle and did the same for her.

As she tried to get up he shook his head no. ""Wait, wait, I'll get around and help you." And so he did and when he opened the passenger side she grabbed his left hand to slowly lift herself out of the car. She ground her teeth to not whimper, but finally she stood on her own two feet, albeit a little wobbly.

She let go of Nero's warm hand and pressed her own to her right side. As if this wouldn't help at all, it was just out of reflex than to do any good. She took a moment to take in the building in front of her. A bright red neon sign hung above the entrance, consisting of a wooden double door with small glass windows.

"Welcome to Devil May Cry." Nero grinned a bit shyly as he saw her lift her head to inspect the flashy sign with the blinking letters.

Devon feared the interior would actually resemble that of a very shady bar or worse - a strip club. The younger man had his hand still extended, looking like he was about to catch her, if she would fall. Maybe he was after all a bit more like Dante than he had let on on their meeting earlier. With this in mind, Devon came to highly doubt it would be anything as shady inside as it looked from the outside.

Well, time to find out, she thought as she saw Nero slowly approach the entrance, making sure she was to follow.

She winced, but bit back the groan that threatened to escape her as she took the two steps up to the wooden double door. A warm yellow light greeted her when Nero stepped inside, neatly waiting for her at an arms length to do the same.

Before she could process the interior of the shop a loud noise told them that Dante wasn't far off behind and soon enough the bike came into view and stopped right next to the Camaro. Nero nudged her further in with a gentle push, but waited for Dante to catch up to them.

"What you got there?" Nero asked noticing the plastic bag dangling from Dante's wrist as they all went inside.

"Oh, just a little welcome gift for the lady." He gave a gallant bow. "Thought I get you a little something. So I took a detour."

Devon smiled at him, when she saw it had a green cross on the plastic bag. "That is very considerate of you." She truly was grateful and still very uncomfortable about how much he seemed to care.

"Of course. Some gentleman I'd be if I didn't know what the lady required." He said with a flourish and handed her the bag.

Devon merely chuckled, as she took it. There was a pregnant pause as she waited for something, anything, he would tell her to do. Her eyes strayed to Nero, who appeared to be unsure himself, fiddling with the straps of his hoodie.

Dante took the silence as his cue. "Alright, let's get you patched up then." He softly put an arm around her waist with the attempt to steer her in direction of the wooden staircase and helping her to get onto to the first floor.

Devon froze under his touch. "I think, I can manage myself." The mere thought of having herself exposed to even one of them mortified her. She tried to pry his supporting hands off her waist and Dante immediately let go.

She felt self-conscious suddenly, wounded. Her damn pride yelling at her loud enough to drown out the concerned voices from both men. There was no way she would let them remotely near her to check the beaten and battered state she was in. Dante's former touches had been already grinding down on her nerves, so this time she took an unsteady step away.

"At least let me help you up to the first floor." Dante huffed and looked down on her small hands that had pushed him away. Gently, but still with enough determination for him to step away. He cocked his head and scrutinized her with a deep scowl.

"It's alright." Devon eyed the stairs with a vicious glare. Her pride telling her, she could climb those very well by herself. Nero and Dante exchanged a pointed look when Devon approached the bottom of the stairs and pushed herself to the first step.

Nero was worried and Dante wondered how long she would take to get up to the first floor at all. "Well, suit yourself." The older devil hunter replied amused, but watched her intently nonetheless.

Devon held her breath and dared herself to let even the tiniest whine escape through her clenched teeth. She made it half way up, feeling confident, because she managed the task pretty quickly. Devon mentally congratulated herself on every taken step, until she finally reached the top.

When she turned around with a triumphant grin, she saw the aggravated expressions plastered on both faces. And she wagered, she had been overconfident in the end, for her strength had left her swiftly. And before any of them could catch her she fell down on her butt with an audible thud and a pained groan.

Faster than Dante, Nero had dashed up, eyes wide and lips pressed together in a thin line. She managed to get up only to have her knees buckle under her instantly. But the younger one quickly steadied her with grabbing her arm and draping it arm around his neck, tugging her into his side.

He huffed at her. "Was it really worth it?" But she could hear the grin in his voice and felt relief despite the knowledge of how dumb she acted.

"I guess not." Devon managed to chuckle. She carefully watched herself from leaning into him. This was as close as she would let him ever again. And on top of that she knew, how she looked and smelled. Like the dirty, scruffy street rat she was. She felt humiliated by the thoughts once again.

They made it to the bathroom, quick enough to her liking. Nero let go off her instantly as she extended her hand and opened the door.

Dante had sauntered up behind them, with a slight smirk and shake of his head. "Okay. As much as this was entertaining, just ask for help next time." Devon looked to the floor, abashed and nodded adding a "Yes." in a small voice.

"Okay. Just take a shower then and when you're ready, holler and I'll be there. We'll see to you then. And no arguing, alright. You should no by now, I won't do anything you're not comfortable with. As I recall, I have never given you any reason to doubt me. Have I?" His voice sounded calm, but she could hear a hint of reproach. Devon lowered her head in guilt. "No, no you didn't."

"Well then, take your time. We'll be waiting downstairs." And he simply sauntered off without looking back.

God, this hurt even more than she had anticipated. She was being rude without reason and felt very much sorry for it, because apparently he'd taken some offence in her constantly suspicious behaviour. The last thing she wanted, was to come off as ungrateful.

"I'll get you something to wear in the meantime." Nero said, after he witnessed the scene in discomfort. He stalked off immediately. "I'll drop it by the door and knock." He added over his shoulder and disappeared in what she believed to be his room then.

Devon muttered a thank you, which Nero probably didn't even hear. She slipped inside the bathroom and shut the door locking it in the process, relieved to finally be alone and away from both men.

But when she finally took the heart to face herself in the vanity mirror above the sink a knock came from the door and Nero's muffled voice with it. "Hi..uh. Clothes are in front of the door. Sorry, they're probably way too big."

He sounded awkwardly embarrassed, Devon realized. "It's alright. Thanks, Nero."

"No problem."

"Okay." She replied awkwardly, not knowing, if he would say something else or just leave. Should she say anything? But when silence ensued, she realized he may already have been gone.

She slowly approached the door and leaned against it ever so carefully to not make a sound. All she could hear was her own heartbeat thumping rapidly.

Nothing. Silence. She exhaled in relief and turned to take her first shower in years. Devon almost felt excited about this. But that didn't last very long.

It quickly became a sheer pain to peel away the crusty layers of clothes. But after a few more minutes of squirming and ignored jolts of pain she stood naked in front of the vanity across the old fashioned bathtub with the white shower curtain.

Despite her first look and feel when they stood before the building, everything looked very neat and pretty cleaned up.

Devon reluctantly met her reflection in the mirror with a disgruntled look. Her tired eyes stared back at her. The bruise on her face had turned a faint purple and a hue of blue.

She looked down her body. Despite being dirty she could already see the other bruises had formed. Her fingers and arms were scratched were she had tried to crawl away. Her elbows were scraped open, as much as her knees. And there were blood smears everywhere, because of the clothes she had pulled off.

She let out a sigh indifference. It was nothing. Could have been worse. Much worse.

Before stepping into the old fashioned tub she turned the water on adjusting it to luke warm, not wanting to add burns to the others injuries. And she knew, the moment she stepped under in and under the shower it would hurt like a bitch and she wasn't disappointed.

Devon closed her eyes, trying to focus on anything else than the burning wounds, trying to remain calm and not squirm or jump right back from the water.

And after a few minutes the pain subsided as much and she felt ready to move. Her muscles felt so sore and she contemplated for a moment to adjust the temperature to warm her body up. Biting her lip she did and the hot stream hit her and she couldn't help but let out a low groan. Partly of the pain as the water poured down hotly, but mostly because it felt so damn good.

Devon trembled under the stream. The luxury of a shower was not something she had experienced for so long. She slid down the wall and sat there slumped forward in the middle of the tub and thoroughly started to enjoy the feel of the water hitting all the right spots on her back. Her breath evened out as she relaxed by the minute. Her eyes shut tightly and she arched her sore back even more to feel all the exhaustion and tension getting washed away down the drain along with the grime and blood.

And then she cried. From pain. From joy. From all the harshness of life that was eased away by the simplest of things. Her experience lacked greatly of it, but she knew for now this is what safety felt like. This feeling was thoroughly wrecking her body with sobs, which she didn't even tried to fight.

The warmth that surrounded her wasn't only coming from the water but from the way Dante's eyes had looked at her before. Someone actually cared for her. It hadn't been the brief pitiful look, someone would give her while passing, but would forget about her, as they turned away.

Dante was different. And Nero as well.

There were times when she just felt entirely lost. But she always tried her damnedest to not let it consume her. She would get through it. One way or the other. Like she always had. But those eyes, that had viewed her with strange compassion, had haunted her from their very first meeting on.

She cried harder, if it was even possible. This hurt. It was a bittersweet hurt, and the sudden fear that came with it slowly crept up on her and coated her entire form with the fear of the realization, that she would have to leave these secure walls again. And it weighed heavy on her as soon as this occurred to her.

But for now she was safe, she assured herself, knowing that through the kindness hidden behind those vivid blue eyes. It mattered that they cared. It mattered more than they actually knew.


	4. a momentary rest

Chapter 3 - A Momentary Rest

* * *

"You think it's okay to just leave her alone up there?" Nero's voice was laced with concern.

He had brought the pizzas in and Dante had followed him up into the kitchen. Both leaned against the counter next to each other. Dante, considerable happy over his find, munched away on a day old burrito he thought to good for the trash, which Nero wouldn't even dare to touch anymore.

He just fixed himself some coffee and, with cup in hand, stared down on the tiled floor, pondering intently about what to make of all of this.

"If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have left her alone. Or even bring her in to begin with." He knew well Nero to know, it didn't sit right with him, and the suspicious the kid was. "It was the right thing to do." He reasoned, with his mouth full, not even minding his manners in the slightest.

"I guess so."

Nero couldn't help the wariness that accompanied his statement. However, this was so typically Dante, it almost made him grin. And the fact, that he was right. She needed help. It had been obvious. And for that he admired Dante a bit. He just went for it, consequences be damned. If there even would be any at all.

Nero quietly sipped his coffee. He would leave it to Dante all the way. She wouldn't and couldn't stay forever. That much both of them knew. And he also knew, he wouldn't be the one to tell her. The way she looked. Savage, abandoned, dirty, bruised. He simply couldn't, even if he tried.

Dante had finished his snack and his wandering eyes stopped on Nero's scrunched up face. "Don't worry so much." He said and patted Nero's arm. Contradictory to his uncertain look, Nero said, "I don't. It's cool."

Dante was about to leave him be, but before he reached the door, he turned his head.. "And let me deal with Vergil." Nero chuckled into his cup, about to drink. "I wouldn't volunteer anyway." Vergil had quite the temper. And Nero wished to avoid testing it on any occasion.

Just as Dante was about to take a step through the door, he stopped dead in his tracks. He did not blink, when coming eye to eye with his dear, ever brooding brother.

Nero jerked wide awake at the unforeseen appearance, spilling his coffee all over his shirt, but Dante didn't flinch, when he looked into Vergil's eyes, which had narrowed notably.

Nero's senses weren't as keen as Dante's when it came to Vergil. Whereas he didn't really focus, the other twin could get by consistently unnoticed. Dante on the other hand could not so much as breathe as to know where he was. He may had already anticipated him.

"Aw, man." Nero groaned as he looked himself up and down. Over Dante's shoulder, Vergil's eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement.

"Should have paid attention." Vergil chastised him with a low voice.

"Should have come in, greeting like any normal person." Nero shot back setting his cup down before he reached for a paper towel to dry himself up.

"Verge. I was just meaning to talk to you." Dante intervened nonchalantly.

"Is that so?" Vergil's amusement disappeared like a puff of smoke. His face went completely blank, but his voice hinted increasing discontent.

"Well, long story short." Dante took a step back to let Vergil pass him into the kitchen and to gather a few seconds in order to brace himself the oncoming argument.

"Yes, by all means, spare me the details." His brother replied sardonically waving him off altogether. "I laready heard the shower running and smelled the blood anyway." The sweet smell of copper was so close, Vergil had almost tasted it on his tongue. That was what initially had roused him in the first place.

Human blood. Not as uncommon in the household as one would think with Lady around. Sometimes injured after one or the other hunt. But still exceedingly rare.

Vergil yet knew the powdery, perfume-laced smell of that woman by heart. And this upstairs was not her. It was earthy and grimy. Utterly reminding him of the trash cans in the yard. Unpleasant to his keen senses.

"Was it a demon attack?" Vergil asked, as if this would be the only reason to verify the woman's presence inside the demon hunter household.

"No, nothing of that sort. You can relax..." Dante tried to soothe him, which did not work.

"Relax?" Vergil asked sharply. "What is she doing here?"

"She needed help. Some idiots tried to mug her. And then tried to beat her up." Nero suddenly piped up, feeling like Dante didn't forward the information as fast as Vergil wanted him to. And he hoped it would tingle Vergil's sympathy, if only by a tiny portion.

"Tried?" Vergil arched an eyebrow at him. "I think they succeeded." He said matter-of-factly and settled himself against the counter next to Nero.

"She managed to escape, but..." Dante clarified the situation further, but Vergil cut him off. "You weren't there?"

Dante sighed in dismay, when Nero, not even spoken to, shook his head no as answer.

Damn. Dante really didn't feel like going into much detail.

"And you trust her?" Vergil immediately demanded from his brother, not sparing Nero so much as a glance, with an edge to his voice.

"I know her." Dante revealed with a hint of frustration, when he finally let himself plop down on a chair at the dark wooden kitchen table.

To Nero this wasn't big news.

But to Vergil it was.

Nero busied himself with the coffee maker behind him and refilled his cup to the brim, waiting nervously for Vergil's reaction, before he turned back around.

"You know her?" Vergil spat sarcastically. "Could be a trap all the same." What was it with his brother to pick up strays by the roadside? Vergil shook his head in disbelief to the carelessness that was Dante.

"She's just one poor human. And she's injured." Dante reasoned with a hardening resolve. "She stays." His voice dropped, he wouldn't budge on this and certainly wouldn't leave any more room for discussion.

The tension was thick. Nero thought, if he would try to reach out with his bare hand, he could almost grab it.

Both brothers eyed each other. Vergil fumed silently, shooting daggers and Dante met his stare, but tried to hide his amusement about his brothers stuck up behaviour. He admitted though, Vergil had a fair point after all, but he just had to trust him on this.

"We are here to help people. Aren't we?" Nero spoke quietly, yet firmly. "Demon attack or not. She is just a girl." Luckily for Dante, Nero was in his side for once. He had seen her and knew how little a threat she was. She was just one meek human after all.

To both their sudden surprise, Vergil raised his hands in mock defeat. "Fine. Have it your way then." From where Dante was seated, he briefly gave Nero a complacent look. Vergil very much had reasons to feel protective over the family home. And they had to give him credit for it and everything he had endured. But on the other hand, he still lacked in the compassion towards strangers department.

Dante quickly fixed his face to a serious expression, when Vergil spoke again. "But as soon as she has healed, she leaves." For good measure he gave both of them a stern look. And Dante's narrowed eyes told Nero to not try to discuss this matter any further.

Baby steps. One thing after another. He didn't really know what to do and how just yet, but the hunter wouldn't want to throw her back out just like that. Not before he thoroughly knew about her circumstances and a probable way to fix them. Or at least help her, if only even a little.

"Yeah, yeah. All in due time." Dante reassured his brother.

Satisfied, Vergil turned and grabbed a cup off the counter, motioning for Nero to fill it with coffee as well.

At Vergil's depiction of back-to-routine behaviour, Nero and Dante felt the tension disperse.

"You know..." Vergil said, as he took a good sip of the strong brew, before concluding the matter with a wry smile. "I'm not even surprised."

He gave Nero an appreciative look as he quickly took another sip. Nero practically never failed to brew coffee strong enough to almost give you a heart attack, but yet it never tasted awful.

Dante wasn't even allowed to touch the coffee maker any more. Not that had he volunteered anyway. He had no talent in anything kitchen related. At all.

"You know me. I have a soft spot for those in need..." Vergil acknowledged the statement with a roll of his eyes.

Nero snorted next to him. "And women." He muttered lowly in a conspiring voice, leaning over to Vergil. They even clinked their cups together at the light teasing. But Dante didn't mind it in the least, as he witnessed once more how casually close they had actually become.

So, all he did was flashing both a dirty grin. "That too."

But that wasn't the reason. Every time he had seen her previously, he found himself wondering about her, until one day it had occurred to him that she had to be homeless.

Her appearance should had given it away the first time, but he had discarded it, not nearly paying enough attention. He had seen a lot of people like that, but her lifeless eyes had met his and they stuck with him from that day forth.

She was a little scrawny being. And when he had seen her few weeks prior, with that cataclysm brewing out there, he finally had made up his mind. She had hauled herself up in the rubble of some old building, trying to shield herself from the heavy rain. And his heart had quenched, because it had been a futile attempt and she was soaked to the bone.

Plus, she was too far into the area around the remains of Temen-ni-gru. It could have been particularly dangerous and he wasn't going to risk anything. So, he just had to pull over and approach her. And he had this strange gut feeling that told him he would regret it later if he would have left her like this.

And he had been grateful, that she had taken up his offer. And he owned Cesare another one and congratulated himself for even knowing the generous diner owner in the first place. Cesare had a heart of gold. And maybe it hadn't been his but Cesare's trustworthy presence that had drawn her in again and again.

Dante didn't even want to think about it, if he had one day found her lying dead in a ditch. Sometimes you couldn't save them all. That he had to learn along the way, yet it was no reason to not yet try. And he was sure, Nero felt the same on that matter. And deep down, buried under all the harsh indifference towards anything outside, Dante knew Vergil did too.

Nero was young and had been broken and build up again. Because of his youth and the spite that came along with it naturally, he came through, none the worse for wear it seemed. After all, he had a pretty cheerful attitude to begin with, though not at first sight. But Dante found himself smiling on the reminder of their first contact. He always saw a hint of his younger self there.

Nero had his period of self loathing and, surprisingly with Vergil's help, found himself valuable again. And how could Dante not take him into business? Give him purpose? And Nero had gratefully accepted. Everybody needs a place to call home. Not to mention, how capable the boy actually was.

Even Vergil stayed with them. He would never budge out of here again, Dante was sure of it. And out of the three of them, he was the one who had it the roughest. Broken down and defeated over and over again. By their mothers death, by him, by Mundus. By the Order.

And yet, Dante knew he was the strongest of all of them. It all came at a price, and how much of a toll it had taken on Vergil's psyche, only time would tell. But all he saw these days, was his sarcastic brother. He wasn't nicer or harsher from before. He was just Vergil. With a brash attitude to boot. But that might also just run in the family.

"Would you stop it with the creepy grin. You're freaking me out." Nero halted Dante's musings with his snide remark. But Dante's grin just widened in return.

"Do not encourage him." Came Vergil's fruitless instruction. He then cleared his throat dramatically. "So, since you so selflessly accepted the woman into our home, where do you exactly plan to accommodate the honourable guest of the hour?"

By the look on Dante's face, Vergil knew his brother had no idea. Vergil flared his nostrils as he snorted. "Well, it seems your eagerness at collecting strays matches your inability to think things through." They had no spare room left.

When he had mentioned the word strays, Vergil even had the audacity to take a side glance at Nero, who gave him a mock hurtful look.

Dante just laughed off the snide remark, for he knew Vergil was just trying to get a rise out of him. "Well if I would, you wouldn't be here as well. So, I suggest you go easy on the insults there."

Vergil smirked back. "Touché." He held his hands up, in mock surrender. "But I don't like to share nonetheless." He added under his breath.

"You did share Yamato a while though." Dante shamelessly grinned at him, nodding his head in Nero's direction.

Vergil huffed and straightened his posture, crossing his arms over his chest, careful to not spill his coffee. "That was different. I didn't have the physical appearance to wield it myself, you know that." He bit back. "I'd never let anyone else use it again, as long as I can hold onto it."

"Don't worry. It's a great sword and all, I give you that, but I prefer Red Queen over any other." The young hunter replied nonchalantly.

A dark chuckle escaped Vergil's throat. "Because you have witnessed only a fraction of what she is capable of, if not wielded by the right hands." The older twin sneered at Nero for so lightly dismissing a power he still hadn't come to fully understand after all.

Nero acted like he was rethinking his previous statement, but then just clicked his tongue and put it in his cheek. "Nope. I'm good, thank you very much." In secrecy, he was glad to not have to share his consciousness ever again with a presence that had felt so raw and too powerful for his human side of the body whenever he had triggered it.

It had been almost frightening. It had really strained him to keep the foreign presence in his thoughts in check. And that these thoughts hadn't been his own he had realised only later. It had been an exhausting and painful experience. Never did he want to feel that again.

"That remains to be seen," Vergil said, winning himself a good glare from the Kid, as Dante kept calling him which was actually more than accurate. Nero's spunk though often reminded him of his brother when they had been younger. The boy was missing a lot self-control and had a short temper. But that was exactly why Vergil could tolerate him in the first place. Entertaining persona and all that.

Dante had matured over the years, but thank the heavens he had never lost his humour and ability to see the lighter side of life. Vergil sometimes envied him for this. And Nero would mature too in the end and Vergil was indeed interested how that would turn out.

The Kid has earned his respect with courage, skill and an unshakeable resolve to get stronger and stronger. Plus, he could wield Yamato's power almost equally to Dante. It was remarkable indeed. Though none of them could grasp the true potential of his beloved heirloom.

"She can have my room." Nero offered suddenly, and Dante questioningly arched his brows.

He pressed a finger to his lips, needing to really ponder over the matter. "If you would do that, sure. On the other hand, I couldn't even offer her my room anyway, even if I wanted too. I can't let anyone go in there."

"That filthy, huh?" Nero snorted and ducked, easily anticipating Dante's move to throw the salt shaker, aimed at his head. Vergil quickly caught it before it could crash against the tiled wall behind them.

"Course not! But my collections are a bit...well they are certainly not meant for the human eye." Dante explained with a devious smile.

It was true.

His room was filled with so many things he had come across over the past years, it was ridiculous. He hoarded not only weapons, but trinkets of demonic origins, healing items for non-humans, quite a section of very old books in languages few could utter (purely for research though), and even a cursed mirror for reasons unknown.

So yes, he had a fair point. Once, he had it all on display in his last former shops. But they had to come to the conclusion that they indeed needed fairly more space for three hunters, so after they had moved into the vacant three storey building, he had stored it all away neatly in his room upstairs and since then never really entertained the idea of putting them all back up in the lofty office.

The neighbourhood around consisted of fairly normal humans, who intended to just live life, as much as the city allowed it to. They were on almost on friendly terms with the direct occupants left and right of their house, much thanks to Dante, who could be a charming bastard after all.

And Nero had this aura of a young harmless boy, who seemed quite approachable as well. But still, they couldn't help the curious looks they got once in a while, so with advice from Vergil, they kept interaction to a minimum to not raise too much suspicion on their lives.

And with that came the conclusion to leave the shop downstairs as normal as possible, though Dante insisted, that the bar he owned from his previous home be put up in the left corner once again. And the fridge.

His beloved couch had to be replaced eventually, because both Vergil and Nero refused to sit on the rugged piece of furniture. It had sported stains, possible older than Nero. And it had smelled badly, even Dante had to admit that.

A new dark red leather couch stood on the left side, accompanied by huge flat TV on a low dark wooden board, Nero had bought one day on a whim.

Dante's old big desk, whose style matched the TV board almost perfectly, still took an equally large portion of the room, not in the middle this time but on the wall across the entrance. The swivel chair still was same as ever. So was the old fashioned phone.

Vergil had added the finishing touches with old, but in good shape, carpets and paintings on the walls, which were a gift by Danzig, at one point. Their taste apparently was equal into baroque designs. Dark heavy, brocade curtains concluded the interior and shielded them from unwanted eyes, if the need arose. Or the sun disturbed Dante's nap time.

So it really was mix of things old and new and a compromise between three clashing personalties, but the interior profited greatly from that and it suited the big room. It felt homely.

The thought of leaving her to sleep on the couch had briefly crossed Dante's mind, it would have been safe enough to let her roam freely in there. But when Nero worded his offer, he could care less. It was alright by him. Nero's room was indeed the most appropriate and anywhere near what a human would consider normal, as well.

And Devon seemed like she could use a good nights sleep in a bed.

As for Vergil, he wouldn't let a stranger into his private space no doubt. The twin called the whole attic his, where he would retreat ever so often. He even had an accessible ladder to the roof. But Dante knew his brother chose the spacious, quiet place, because he meditated a lot and in addition he needed the whole place for repeating and practising his fighting routines.

"Well, Verg-" Dante trailed off noting the sudden vacant spot to Nero's left, his eye twitched slightly. "I hate when he does that."

Nero blinked and clicked his tongue in a frustrated matter. He knew the twins were fast and deadly silent, if the need arose, but this was beyond ridiculous. Vergil had mastered the ability to teleport to a perfection. One bat of the eye and he was gone.

The abandoned cup stood there and Vergil had used their distraction at one point as an opening to bow out and not take part in the discussion any longer. To him the matter was settled all right. No further need for his presence.

"Hello...?" A soft small voice had them suddenly both stand at attention.

Nero was the first to come into the shop respectively living room and he found her standing just on the last step of the stair case. He prayed she didn't see Vergil. And by the look of it, she still was oblivious to the third presence in the house.

Nero felt himself ease back at this. Her very first inquiries had made him nervous. How she would react to three man with that distinctive white hair, he couldn't tell. His story didn't seem to satisfy her earlier on.

"There you are all shiny and new. C'mere." Dante beckoned her over as he appeared in the door frame. Nero stood awkwardly in the middle of the large room and didn't know what else to do, since DAnte had already taken the spotlight.

Devon walked past Nero, who stood there dumbfounded at how lost she looked in his big clothes, and he also got a whiff of the minty soap, he used in the process. Her former tied up hair hung loosely in curly locks around her clean face with the bruise standing out in harsh contrast to her pale skin. It looked so out of place on the soft looking face, that he involuntarily clenched his devil bringer at the sight. The mere thought of who had done this mad ehis blood boil.

Devon joined Dante, as they entered the kitchen. The older hunter positioned her at the table and fetched the bag of medical supplies and carefully placed them on the table. Nero's large black sweater she wore concealed her wounds completely, but she quickly understood what Dante had in mind.

Nero just walked back in the moment she tried to get rid of said garment. Devon cursed herself for being so inconsiderate to put it on in the first place. It took some effort to pull it back over her head, and the shirt she wore under it hiked up enough to let both males get a clear look on the bruises that had formed on her hip and waist.

Nero's jaw tightened visibly as he ground his teeth at the short glimpse and the glum look from Dante told him, even the older devil hunter was for once speechless. This looked very painful and Nero could do nothing less, but admire her for the brave face she put on.

The silence was unnerving, seeing at how distressed both men seemed because of her.

And Dante in front of of her on his knees didn't help at all. He looked up at her with those piercing blue eyes and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold that gaze for long.

"I'm alright." She said cheerfully. "Don't make such a sad face." She turned her head to look at Nero, who scratched his nose as he caught her eyes.

"You, too." She added, sounding way to cheerful. Nero quickly lowered his head to avoid any more eye contact.

Dante chuckled heartily, but nodded and started to rip open packages of dressing materials plus a bottle of disinfectant. "Alright. Let's get you patched up."

Devon was prepared for the touch of his hands this time and it turned out to be not entirely unpleasant any more. His usual gloves were gone and his big strong hands showed a gentleness she hadn't believed they way able to. His fingers ghosted over the various cuts, inspecting which were the worst.

Devon watched as he turned and twisted her arms in order to get a good look on every single one, daring herself not to flinch. His hands were surprisingly warm. And the more he touched, she realized they were giving off heat like a stove. Why was he so warm? The unusual body heat almost resembled a fever, unreasonable so and it puzzled her.

Dante all the while noticed, how well she endured his meticulous examination. Vertical cuts on both her forearms told him, the she had used them to shield herself from the attack, for they were several larger ones close together. Her palms sported a few as well and one in particular caught his attention. It was as if she had tried to grab the knife by it's sharp blade.

Though the closer he looked, the more he became wary. In contrary to his former estimation, the cuts weren't that deep. But something bothered him. The edges of those cuts didn't look as fresh and new as they should, did they? Well, he certainly was no doctor and the thought of it almost made him giggle. And by no means was he on familiar terms with injuries and overall healing capabilities of the human nature. Seeing as his two house mates shared the same unnatural trait to recover on the spot and the only human, meaning Lady, he knew thorough enough, rarely got injured because of her mad skills.

Dante's chest still tightened at the thought of how Devon, not having any skill at all, must have defended herself so desperately. And he truly wondered how much luck one could have, if something like this were to happen again. By God, he already was aware of how he wouldn't be able to bear the thought of it. And this time he would be the one to blame, by sending her out there as soon as she would be alright.

"Okay, this will sting a bit." He warned her, as he began the task of disinfecting the wounds. "I have to ask though, have you anymore of those on you?"

"No, just a few bruises." Making it sound like nothing, Nero and Dante exchanged a brief sceptic look, in recalling what they both had seen earlier. But Dante already knew, she wouldn't let anyone close enough to take a look.

She bit her lip and hissed, the second the bad smelling liquid was applied with a cotton ball. She knew he tried to be careful, but she prayed he'd be faster for the sooner it would be over. Dante regarded her for a moment, scrunched up nose and apologetic smile. "Sorry."

"Just get this over with. Hurts like hell." She smiled wryly and squeezed her eyes shut as he tenderly proceeded.

At this Nero stood up and poured a glass of water. Returning to the table, he cleared hsi throat in order to get her attention and she cracked one eye open for him. "I bet, those would help, if only a little." He said, popping the flask of pills open, retrieving a few to give to her, next to the water.

"Oh, right. Cheers." She popped two into her mouth, quickly drainign the whole glass after them.

Dante gave Nero an appreciative nod. The older devil hunter wouldn't have believed Nero to willingly stay with them, but to rather go on his merry way the moment they had reached home. Well, he was pleasantly proved wrong.

As if on cue, Nero stood up. "Hey, you hungry?" He had forgotten about the pizzas, because of Vergil's short entrance earlier.

"I don't know about you..." Dante flashed her a bright smile. "..but I am."

"Yeah, no surprise there, old man." Nero muttered jokingly and taunted him with a sneer.

Devon was too taken aback by the once again rude use of the term old man to answer right away, barely nodding a single time for confirmation.

Dante nonchalantly shrugged the jibe off, relentlessly pursuing the woman's treatment. "Exactly, Kid." He made it a point to stress the last word teasingly.

Nero's eyes sparked with mischievousness as he regarded her, than Dante, then her again. He recalled their conversation from the ride home. "Ha, you know, some people would even mistake you for my father."

Dante stopped dead in his actions, standing up before shooting Nero an incredulous stare. The young hunter's eyes flickered over to Devon, who sat there mouth aghast in embarrassment.

"Who would say such a horrible thing?" Dante faced her with a mock hurtful expression, quickly catching up on Nero's sideways glance. "You? Sweetheart you wound me."

"Why would you tell him that?" She whined at Nero who openly giggled, gleefully watching Dante's composure falter.

"I am not old." He told her, pointing his index finger at her nose to flick it. With a laugh, she shrunk back into her chair rubbing her nose guiltily, though she was humoured by his funny reaction all the same. If someone woul dhave told her days prior that something like this would happen, she would have thoroughly laughed. Just the same laugh she used right now.

"And if he'd be my son, I'd definitely would have taught him some manners, among many other things."

The ambiguity wasn't lost on neither Devon nor Nero, who was getting agitated at the last comment. "Oh, please. As if I would take advice from you." He scoffed.

Highly amused, Devon could see he was blushing. In all his glorious handsomeness, he was apparently a rather innocent, shy being, which Devon found both adorable and positively enthralling.

Of course the whole banter was joking around on each others expanse and Devon found herself giggling at both, though she couldn't help but detect the slight discomfort at such a topic from Nero. The young man had turned away from them, trying to look busy over the pizza cartons.

Dante sensed that Nero was effectively shut up and got back to finish wrapping up the bandages around Devon's arms and hands. He held her gaze sternly, but she knew he was acting the strict part, for a small smile played on the corner of his lips.

"You better watch it, young lady." He chided her jokingly. "I am certainly not old. I am very handsome and in the prime stage of my life."

"Yes, sir." She played along accordingly and received a satisfied pat on the head. "That's more like it." The flirtatious tone and crooked smile still caught her off guard though.

"You clean up nicely, as well, if I might say so."

Devon bashfully averted her eyes, not anticipating where that had come from. Damn him, she cursed when he still stared, somehow turning serious.

Almost smouldering eyes beckoned her to take a deep look into bright blue pools of energy. And the heat. Was it hot? It was, wasn't it? If he was trying to prove his point, Devon could only acknoledge his absolute succession.

The clattering of dishes rose both from the intense stare they had just shared and Devon was appreciating the welcomed distraction.

"They have gone completely cold." Nero complained behind them to no one in particular. The silence had annoyed him to no end, so he just had to say something, anything, even if it was stupidly stating the obvious. But when their attention shifted from one another back to him, he faintly grinned to himself for efficiently disturbing the older man.

"I don't care. It tastes just the same." Dante shrugged, genuinely not interested in the temperature of his food. He'd always eat cold pizza because he was to lazy to even microwave it. Nero had insisted on such a device as being essential to the household, but no one else rarely used it instead of him.

"I really don't mind either." Devon said softly and this time Nero regarded her with a somewhat amused expression. He had grabbed a spatula from one of the many drawers. He pointed the thing at Dante accusingly, but kept his eyes on her. "Don't listen to him. He really has not even the slightest clue about food. So I wouldn't turn to him for any advice on that matter."

Dante grunted as this. "Shut it." Then he turned his observatory gaze back at the woman once more. "How are you feeling?"

"Good." She replied, testing her movement with the bandages wrapped up tightly around both forearms, tight yes, but not uncomfortable. Dante beamed at her and rose to his full height, towering over her seated form in all his glory. He grabbed the discarded black sweater and inspected it briefly, then he snorted, holding it up.

"Nero." Dante sounded half amused, half reprimanding.

The one spoken to looked over and winced at the use of his real name for once, grinning sheepishly. Dante shook his head at the print on the back, which was a red hand, giving him the finger. "Neat." He handed it over to the woman nonetheless.

"It's funny." Nero retorted.

"It is." Devon defended him abruptly. "I like it." She added, while trying to put it back on, which turned out cumbersome until she received a hand from Dante.

"Well, you can keep it." Nero offered gallantly, if just solely to annoy Dante.

Devon couldn't help the wide grin, threatening to split her face at the generosity. "Awesome." She cheered, completely forgetting herself in this very moment.

"So, immature." Dante huffed and pouted at the sweater, as it was put back on her skinny frame, putting both hands on his hips.

"What'd you expect from a Kid like me. "Nero asked, arching his eyes brows. And they all started laughing. Dante didn't come around to notice, Devon eased up more and more around them. The unabashed display of joy over something so simple like an ugly sweatshirt infused him with pride.

Yup, he had definitely done the right thing.

They all gathered on the table when Nero served a few pieces of warmed up pizza for Devon and himself and was about to fetch few more slices for Dante. As soon as he turned though, Dante already snagged a piece and was about to devour it, but Nero shot him a warning gaze over his shoulder.

"You are one greedy bastard. You didn't even want warmed up pizza. Go and get yourself a cold piece!" The look on Dante's face was priceless, Devon found herself yet laughing again. Even louder and heartily than before. It just bubbled up from deep inside and she couldn't have stopped even if she wanted to. Both males exchanged confused expressions.

Th efemale covered her mouth and lowered her eyes in embarrassment. "I'm sorry." But to her felt so damn good, being able to laugh like this again.

Dante chuckled. "You actually can laugh. That's good to see." He said it with a genuine voice, as he put the slice he had meant to take on a plate and shoved it over to her. "Eat. Laugh. Do whatever pleases you."

To her it sounded like such a corny thing to say, but she actually found herself appreciating his words, because she knew he meant them. For whatever reason, Dante she found enjoyable. Never had she met a person the likes of him.

And she really began to wonder what his deal truly was. The younger one, Nero seemed to boss him around and he didn't even mind. He called him kid whenever possible, though. And she got the feeling, that Nero quietly tolerated it, despite not really liking it either.

There was a strange dynamic to these two she secretly admired, but couldn't put her finger on it yet.

Nero obviously shared some traits with the demon hunter, but still he had a whole different vibe and effect on her. At first he had appeared moody and haughty. Now she understood it was more an air of confidence and for the lack of a better word, and because it was the first word that popped up in her head when he drove the car, coolness.

He was cool. With an underlying gentleness. His voice was different when he talked to Dante than when he had talked to her. It had been a bit deeper, soft and gentle. Dante's voice had a natural rasp, but could still sound very young and boyish, whereas Nero's could get as smooth as velvet.

And with this thought in mind she found herself stealing off a glance or two at the younger man, who had sat down opposite of her to finally eat as well.

His hair. His sharp nose. His light blue eyes. His smile. His confident posture.

Devon's train of thought suddenly stopped dead in it's tracks. She observed how he ate only with his left hand, the other one securely tucked away under the table. She remembered how he had worn a glove on his right hand as he drove and still wor eit at home. But, he didn't even use it at all anymore.

Curious. Very curious. A pang of sympathy shot through her. Maybe there was indeed something wrong with it and he just had the need to hide from her, because she was a stranger after all. She knew, she wouldn't mind, but he might thought so apparently.

Devon ate in silence, while her opposites chatted away easily, mocking each others eating habits . She focused hard on her food, but found she was pretty much still stuffed from the meal at Cesare's place.

So, she chewed her one slice meticulously to be at least occupied, while she registered in astonishment that both men rashly devoured two pizzas in no time.

"You two are pigs."

A cold hard statement funnelled it's way into Devon's ears. Pearced itself into it like the freezing tip of an icicle and the feeling spread out through her whole body.

"Have a seat as long as there's anything left, Verge." Dante would've laughed out loud, at how he had predicted, Vergil would show up once more, too curious about the female he had brought in without waiting for consent.

Completely and utterly untouched, not even bothering to look up at the newcomer, Dante's poor reaction let Devon relax, if only a little.

"I have to politely decline." The voice declared in a mildly conceited tone.

"Your loss." Dante remarked, while he finished towelling of his greasy fingers. Nero was the first one to raise his head to greet the person standing in the door frame.

The moment, the face came into her view, Devon did a double take. Closing her eyes and reopening them, she wished that her brain might be on dangerous overload of Dante- and Neroness so much, that it just painted her another image of Dante.

A Dante with a one hell of a harsh voice and appearance. Maybe it was the way he styled his hair, which made him look quite strict. Whereas Dante just wore it down loosely, with not so much of a haircut, the one with the same face had it slicked back, though it was still wildly sticking out on the back. He sported vivid blue eyes, a trait he shared with both man sitting on the table.

And of course, the hair was white. Go figure.

Sheesh. Another one. And with a wild laugh threatening to bubble up, she hoped or more begged inwardly that this was the last one to pop up. What a bunch of weird guys. Nice, but weird, Devon thought as she managed to swallow that inappropriate laugh.

Lucky enough for her, she deemed.

Somehow, Devon observed with cautious eyes, that nice wouldn't be the first thing that came to mind when describing the other Dante. The girl was so stupefied, she did not catch the name on the spot, which Dante used on him a mere moment ago.

Then the full weight of his icy attention landed on her, making her shrink visibly into her chair. He took a few steps forward to position himself to lean against the counter, arms crossed. His eyes never left her pitiful small frame. Devon swore she heard him scoff and even take some pleasure in the way she had reacted, mouth slightly open to express her shock.

"It's rude to stare." His voice was still stern, but could ther be a hint of amusement she heard? Devon couldn't quite tell.

Nero breathed a sigh, as he, too, recuperated from Vergil's dramatic entrance. Dante merely snickered and Devon was aware it was on her expanse. She did stare, didn't she? Getting a hold of herself, Devon snapped her mouth shut, her gaze wandering over to Dante.

"Yup." He immediatly nodded, for the unvoiced question was written all over her face.

"Twins." Nero confirmed it for her in a drawl. "Meet Vergil. Brother to Dante." He announced, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It was though, wasn't it? Yet, Devon had never met twins before. Especially not as unique looking as the ones in this room. So, for her this wasn't normal at all. She literally couldn't take her eyes off both them.

Vergil, her mind repeated his name again as to get a feel for it. If she ever saw one overly confident and arrogant person, he surely hit the nail on the head, the way he viewed her from above with those prideful and dismissive eyes as he stood there as casual as possible.

"He's my least favorite brother." Dante stated about Vergil's aloofness and winked at her, trying to dissolve her tension and got rewarded with a faint smile.

"I am your only brother." Vergil admonished calmly.

It would seem they at least shared their dry sense of humor. Devon chalked that up as a remotely good point. First appearances did not mean anything. She of all people should know.

But to her surprise, Vergil's statement truly confirmed, what Nero had told her. He was not related to them.

Dante's twin slowly approached the table. One stern look, with an overwhelming authority, pressured Devon to quickly move over to sit on the other empty chair.

Satisfied, Vergil settled down next to a bewildered Devon, who helplessly looked over to Nero. The young man just rolled his eyes at Vergil's behaviour but remained silent.

Did the temperature suddenly drop or why did she fell a chill the moment Vergil had sat down? Her mind must be playing tricks on her. Or maybe it was her system, not yet fully adjusted to warm food and showers. Or indoors in general. Or, maybe it was the man next to her, that gave off a coldness, making her freeze.

Since everyone was finished Nero and Vergil wouldn't touch the rest of the food, he stood up to clear the table, filling the heavy silence with most wlecome distracing noises. He then went and busied himself with something on the counter, but Devon did not dare looking, for she feared to come eye to eye with the man next to her. Suddnely she resented the man, for he had ruined a perfectly fine meal and drowned her high spirits in the coldest of waters imaginable.

If possible, she pressed herself even more into the chair, in order to match the feelin gof being small, she so detested. Her steady gaze remained fixed on the table's surface and the few crumbs of pizza dough seemed more intersting than her sorroundings.

Not before long, Vergil's voice interrupted her stasis. "So, when mister lazy bum is finished. It is time."

She saw, how Dante waved him off . "Yeah, yeah. Don't worry. I haven't forgotten our appointment." It was the way he said it, maybe he didn't even realize the snide inflection on the last word, that pricked Devon ears up.

"Good." His brother acknowledged, sounding mildly pleased.

Then Devon heard the distinctive clang of dishware. And the sound of water boiling. She lifted her head ever so slightly to be able to observe the room and it's occupants in silence.

"I thought, I could come along." She heard Nero ask with slight disappointment in his voice.

"Not today. Also, it would be good for Mister Whatsit-of-Whocares here to use his body for something other than stuffing it once in a while." Vergil clearly used a teasing voice on his brother. From the movement Devon felt next to her, she incrediously realized, he might have just kicked Dante under the table for emphasis.

"Ouch." Dante pouted.. "And ouch." He pointed down while giving his brother a nasty glare, to which Vergil just sneered.

Dante looked much like a snotty brat, whereas Vergil still held a dignified expression as if nothing happened. Nero had returned in time before things might have escalated, judging by the defying stare of Dante.

Vergil received a mug and when he cleared his throat loud enough to will her attention towards him, she found herself under the questioning look of Nero with another cup in hand. The cup, that Vergil was holding with both his hands, gave off a steamy cloud accompanied by an aromatic, pleasant smell.

Tea, Devon slowly registered, when Vergil took the cup from Nero with an impatient sigh, due to the woman's lacking initiative.

He put it down in front of her, without so much but an annoyed glance.

She gave Nero an apologetic smile, careful to solely loo past Vergil, she thanked Nero in a small voice.

She mimicked Vergil's action and put her hands around the cup, revelling in the warm feeling with a soft sigh, even as the heat threatened to burn her palms and fingers.

So, to her Nero was apparently in charge of the kitchen, voluntarily or not, she couldn't tell. Vergil gave off the impression to be the one in charge of, well, of whatever it was they were doing. So, what was Dante's role then? Not only to be the sole provider of entertainment, Devon reckoned. No, there was far more to it than at first glance.

Nero, his beloved coffee in hand, took the seat opposite of her once more. "How long will you be gone then?" He asked the twins.

"Don't know. Couple of hours." It was Dante who replied, while giving a shrug.

"At least until dawn. You will be in charge of everything else. The phone as well." Vergil informed him rather seriously. "And I believe I won't have tell you, but..." Before he could finish, Nero let out a frustrated grunt. "I know."

"Splendid."

"With that being sorted out, come on. Tea time's over." Dante ushered Vergil to follow his example as he stood up, before he stretched his back.

"Take care. Don't do anything I wouldn't." Dante winked at both Devon and Nero. Vergil silently left the kitchen without another word or glance.

"There is nothing you wouldn't do." Nero replied sarcastically. Dante pointed his finger guns at him before he turned around and followed his brother.

Devon had tried to pay attention to the conversation around her to no avail. The mix of meds, tea and comfort under a roof added up to make her feel the sheer amount of exhaustion. It had proved harder and harder the whole time to focus and keep her eyes open. The sleepiness hit her unprepared, and her lids became heavy, while she wondered how exactly it was possible to feel this weary from on esecond o another.

Nero regarded her for a moment and saw how she seemed to nod off and he smiled the smallest of smiles. Devon was short before dozing off at the kitchen table. He had meant to clean up a bit at first, though one look at the tired female had him reconsider his course of action.

"Devon." He called softly. "Don't zone out on me."

Her head snapped up at the gentle voice and her eyes tried to focus on the young man, which became quite difficult. "Sorry." She rubbed her eyes. "Geez, I could fall asleep right here."

"You better not, when there's a perfectly fine bed waiting for you. Come on." They silently walked with Nero leading the way, until they arrived in front of a dark wooden door on the first floor, indeed the one he had vanished through earlier to find her some clothes.

And to a sleepy Devon it only occurred at this very moment that he was offering her his room, rendering speechless with his generosity. "I..." She muttered, not even knowing if she should decline or not.

Nero perfectly understood, what was going on and with a reassuring smile he shook his head. "It's fine. Really."

Devon's face scrunched up in an apologetic expression. "I...uhhh..." She bit her lip, averting her eyes for a second when he sighed at her. "I don't mind." He said firmly, convincing her finally to accept the offer. "Thank you."

"There you go." Slightly hesitant, he opened the door and flicked the light on, before proceeding to walk inside, but when she came to a stop beside him, there was nothing that would explain his reluctance at all.

Devon couldn't help but feel abashed, a million thoughts racing through her head and what she had anticipated it would look like. Well, she marvelled, certainly not this.

The room was pretty big, she noticed. And the first thing that popped up in her head was, how exceptionally tidy it looked. The queen sized bed was covered with a dark blue comforter, small cushions were neatly lined up at the wooden headboard. Devon wondered if he had cleaned it beforehand or if he really was this organized. Everything had it's own designated place apparently.

Little did she know, but this particular behaviour was the sole remnant, he still performed relentlessly, because of his upbringing within the The Order. Everything had to be in tip top condition, from sword and weapon cleaning to housekeeping and kitchen duty. Everything about his room had been organized in a painfully adept manner.

Her eyes briefly wandered over to him. In this moment, she saw him in a different light. He was young, but at the same time he could give off a hauntingly serious air, the very same Vergil had displayed earlier on.

She would have guessed him in his twenties. No, she was pretty sure he was. But beholding his room he came off like an much older adult with a strong sense of order, in comparison to the many boys his age, which had yet still to learn.

Devon inspected the room slowly. A large wardrobe made of the same chestnut wood stood as the bed on the opposite wall. A small desk sporting a laptop and stereo system stood under the window, which had closed curtain of grey heavy linen to keep the light out. Next to it on, covering the rest of the wall was covered by a broad bookshelf, almost reaching up to the ceiling.

"It's not much." Nero commented the, in his opinion and compared to Dante end Vergil, scarce furnishing. But he had everything he needed. And he certainly wouldn't want a pool table, a fridge, a fight dummy nor a sandbag in his room. And certainly nothing that would embarrass him in any way. He took pride in the state his room was in, no less.

"it is more than enough." When Devon looked at him with those big happy eyes and a huge smile plastered on her face, he rememberer her standards might not be as high as his due to her circumstances. She sounded so impressed, Nero coul ddo nothing but smile back shyly.

The only things that would have compromised him where Blue Rose and Red Queen, but those two weapon cases were stored away in the cellar. He only took them out, if he accompanied the twins to the occasional job. Not that he really needed those to defend himself. His devil bringer on his right side was defence and offence in one and most of the time completely sufficient. Even if someone would be stupid enough to attack the house.

In addition, Dante and Vergil always surrounded the compound with powerful wards upon their leave. Those poor idiots who would deem it wise to break in, if there really were any, wouldn't know what had hit them in the first place, if they tried to enter deliberately. Which brought him back to the present.

"Do you read much? You can take a look and read as much as you like." He informed her, when he realized her staring at the huge collection of books and comics.

"I would love to." If possible, she grinned even wider at his suggestion.

"Go ahead. And have a good night." But before he turned around, he pointed at the wardrobe. "Oh, behind the left door are shirts and sweaters and pants. Just take whatever you need." He offered her with a generous smile.

Despite having many clothes, when it cam edown to it, he only wore the same few pieces over and over again. On that note, he snapped his fingers. He hastily went over and opened the wardrobe snatching his favorite clothes. "All set."

"Right." She had observed him with an amused look. "Wouldn't want you to run around naked and catch a cold." Her voice sounded a bit more teasing, than she had intended at first. How embarrassing, she thought when his grin faltered, because she had baffled him out of the blue.

With a flustered expression he looked over his shoulder. "Yeah." He let out a nervous chuckle. "Good night." And he was gone.

She giggled lightly to herself as she closed the door, Nero hadn't bothered about as he practically fled from her. Maybe he wasn't as grown up, as she thought.

Devon didn't bother changing again, just discarded the sweat pants and crept under the covers and revelling in the clean and fresh smell of the bed.

She tried to bring her racing thoughts in order, positioning herself in a comfortable sleeping position and eyes glued to the ceiling. The joyous feeling of a soft bed. The secureness of those thick walls. The warmth that spread under the covers and through her heart.

The thousand megawatt smile that seemed to be Dante's trademark. The knots of tension slowly eased away, resting comfortably is all she could ask for, but the generosity that was Nero and Dante made it even better. Her thoughts were running at the speed of light and she didn't know, if she could fall asleep like that.

Strangely enough, before she could think that thought to the end her tiredness caught up with her and she fell into deep sleep, her body so desperately craved for.

* * *

Still, no plot whatsoever I guess. - **shrugs-**

* * *

Overly long chapter - dedicated to the ever supportive soul, that keeps encouraging and inspiring me. You know who you are.


	5. Overture

Chapter 4 - Overture

* * *

Devon never had craved for much company. Not when she had a home and a job. Not afterwards. The few people she had known had either moved or she didn't want to see anyone, because of the shame she felt when the small diner she had worked for went bankrupt.

Strange folk and dangerous creatures had started to roam the city freely, when that cursed tower had emerged and destroyed the whole inner complex, where most stores and companies had settled.

Though the outskirts remained untouched it quickly turned from a secret whisper behind closed doors to an anxious murmur until it became fully fledged screams of fear. The city was cursed. It was not safe any longer. Especially the closer one ventured to the ruins.

Despite all this, Devon stayed. She wouldn't and simply couldn't leave. She had lost faith in the world as much as it had lost faith in her. Even after the social class came to a screeching halt the more people fled the city, she stayed because she did not care any more.

On the other hand, to be free of any obligation was beneficial to her sorrowed life. She did as she pleased and went where she wanted. And within time, without money, she learned and adapted quickly to it.

And socially unacceptable people like her had the time of their life. So many abandoned buildings and destroyed stores or markets. It was like living in Wonderland.

But after a few years living like kings, it became evident that another layer of society had formed. Something that she did not want to be part of. Low town, how the district was called nowadays, the section closest to the tower, but not the actual ruined ring around it, was a dangerous place to visit. Especially after dark. At daytime, everything seemed to be dozy in a sleepy haze, but come night, the streets where jostling with busy people. It would only look like a district of non-stop parties, clubs and bars, wouldn't it be for that eerie looming danger underneath it all.

Dangers lurked around every corner. And for her alone, it sure spelled trouble wherever she went.

You could not see or touch it, but Devon felt that prickly sensation whenever she had went there in the beginnings. And then she stopped her visits altogether, feeling she wasn't welcomed in these parts at all.

So she mainly kept herself close to the outskirts whee still normal folks went to do their daily business, but after dark it was quiet because people did not go out and kept their doors and windows tightly shut. It seemed like two completely different cities had merged into one and not by choice.

And always she would be unaware of how her eyes roamed her surrounding for the man with the red coat. That previous night, when she had been careless, because of how sleepy and groggy she was she made a mistake and went head on into these rabid street junkies.

And as they attempted to slit her body open, she rediscovered her will to live. To fight. She wouldn't go down like this. And before she knew it, she escaped widely intact and the adrenalin coursed through her blood and she felt more alive than ever before.

She ran and ran until pain and exhaustion had caught up with her body and with her last remaining strength, she reached Cesare's place. A place where she knew a smile could warm her entire being so easily like none before. He was a kind man. And the initial shock had subsided quickly, and the fight she thought she had to put up when Dante had shown up, did not come.

All she really wanted was someone. Anyone by her side. And there he was. His glorious smile and red leather that smelled like oil and musk. She did not want to admit it, but he had been a most welcomed sight.

When Devon had woken up in Nero's room she took her time he in reliving all those things and ponder quite a bit. The entire house was silent, not eerie like the empty streets outside, but very peaceful. No threats that lurked in the silence, awaiting her to make a wrong move.

She simply laid there, revelling in the comfort of a soft bed and warm room. It was still too early to get up either way, through curtains fell only a soft light, meaning sun wasn't entirely up yet.

She wished she would be able to stay in this serene moment forever.

* * *

Nero was already wide awake in the living room, but in the rest of the house he couldn't detect any movement as of now. As much as he liked the couch, sleeping on it was far more uncomfortable than he remembered as he stretched once and his sore back cracked in protest.

With still sleepy eyes he stumbled through the darkened room over to the kitchen, where the rising sun greeted him bright enough to make him go blind for a second.

He rubbed his tired eyes and stretched yet again. His arm was itchy like hell and he took off the accursed glove he had to wear even through his sleep in order to hide it, if Devon would have woken up earlier than all of them. But right now he trusted his ears to pick up and distinct her footsteps from the twins easily, even from upstairs.

Or so he hoped. Truth be told, he was tired of this. He threw the nasty thing onto the counter and went to make coffee. His brain still half asleep, he lost track of how many spoons he already dumped into the machine, but was to lazy to scoop the coffee back out. Four? Or was it five already?

A thoughtful hum on his lips and with furrowed brows he put another one in for good measure. Couldn't hurt, if considered how tired he was. And while he pitied himself for the lack of sleep he recalled the reason in his sleepy haze.

The damn phone hadn't stopped ringing in the dead of the night. And because the brothers had him watch it and secondly it was located in the every same room, he had to stand back up and get the call.

At first he hadn't even recognized the voice on the other end until it had teased him unpleasantly. He couldn't really stand the guy, but he had to put up with him nonetheless for he was one of Dante's oldest and most trusted contacts in the city.

After promising the person on the other end multiple times to relay the message as soon as possible, he made haste to fob off the man with the, at least in Nero's eyes, utterly questionable occupation. Whenever they had to visit the club, Nero certainly did not tag along voluntarily.

But he knew both twins were home, ans himself would get assigned to watch over the female instead of coming along, he already laid his plans out for the day. Ans on top, with Vergil and Dante probably out of the vicinity, he could at least do a proper cleaning and listen to his loud music to his hearts content. Always a pleasure he looked forward too, since Dante had questionable taste in music and Vergil preferred silence over anything else.

And within said silence currently reigning the house, Nero's ears picked up the faintest of noises coming from above, source not clearly detectable. But he was certain both his companions would rather sleep through the day, than to putting up with a bright day and a city full of people.

He filled his cup with the fresh coffee and took a large gulp while watching the sun coming up. His still focussed senses kicked suddenly into gear. He smirked, knowing exactly which twin to anticipate. Without giving away his knowledge he opened the cupboard above the coffee maker, and calmly retrieved another cup.

Casually flinging it over his shoulder with his devil bringer, he waited if it would crash to the ground. But all he heard was a faint swish. His smirk grew wider.

"Paying attention I see, " Vergil mocked, but the slight praise was music to Nero's ears. He finally turned to see the twin stroll in, stopping right next to him. While doing so, Vergil didn't fail to notice how exceptionally smug the young man looked. "Don't let it get to your head."

Nero shook his said head, the comment was delivered in a demoralizing voice, just as expected. But he couldn't help to feel slightly proud to have noticed Vergil. It was next to impossible for normal persons, for he made no sound loud enough for human ears to hear. The non-existent heartbeat, or human body for that matter, were responsible for this, since Vergil had been stripped of his human component a long time ago.

And over the course of their living together, Nero had made a point to eventually be able to perceive Vergil before he came into view. It became something close to contest. Nero wanted to learn this ability by heart and not having to focus so intently anymore.

"You wouldn't let me, even if I wanted to." Nero retorted, before cocking his head, slightly puzzled. "You're up early, though."

"What of it", Vergil scoffed, clearly aware it was kind of unusual for him. But the unfamiliar smell in the house had been keeping him awake and on his toes. Of course, he wouldn't admit that to Nero openly.

"Actually," Nero shrugged, "that's quite convenient. I had a phone call this night. Interesting to say the least."

Vergil immediately perked up at the hinted promise of work to do. He motioned impatiently for his younger companion to go on, who was refilling his cup and settling himself on top of the counter, feet dangling happily in a childish display.

"Well, it was dude from Love Planet." Nero declared with a scrunched up nose, making his dislike visible.

"What did he want?" Vergil asked with narrowing eyes.

"He only said, he had a message...For both you and Dante." Nero scratched his head, because Vergil looked disappointed.

"No job then? Password?" The older twin was disgruntled over the seemingly uselessness of said call, since Nero shook his head no. "Can't be that important then." Vergil concluded with a grunt.

Rolling his eyes and chuckling the young man replied, " you know, he said you would say that." Now came the undeniably curious part. And he'd be damned if he wouldn't find out what the hell was going on. "And because of that he told me this. It was a message delivered by a bird."

The effect the information had on Vergil, startled Nero, for the older hunter's eyes pierced right through Nero's soul, and a cold shudder rolled down his back.

Despite this Vergil's voice was as calm as ever. "A bird, he said." He repeated slowly, putting his cup down.

"Yeah, what's that about?"

Nero could just helplessly stare at the blue flash, indicating Vergil's curt leave, jiggling cup left in his wake. The young devil hunter heaved a deep sigh. So much for getting anything out of Vergil's stuck up ass.

* * *

Dante awoke with a start, eyes zoning in on his surroundings. He stood up lazily and rubbed his eyes. Straining his ears, he made out one by one all the occupants of the house. All their heartbeats were at normal pace, he checked like he did ever so often before doing anything else. It was a habit he developed over the years and years in business. He paid more attention to his surrounding, noting even the slightest difference by now. Every drop of temperature, every shift in the atmosphere around him.

His senses were trained to an abstruse amount, that even Vergil found to be worth of praise. Specks of dust floated around him in the dim light, coming through the curtains. Sun was setting, time to get up for him.

Dante did not really hate broad day light, but he found twilight and nights to be his favorite time of the day. Direct sunlight always bothered him. It was imply to bright for him.

He yawned lazily and stretched in front of his wardrobe. He heard soft footsteps of naked feet above him and knew Vergil was awake and already on it.

Sometime Dante found it rather impressive that Vergil was so into this, other days he found it plainly annoying. Especially when he was trying to sleep. He knew Sometimes Vergil did it just to grind on his nerves. But, that was a given. Dante did much the same. They still were quite a ways from what people would call a healthy sibling relationship, but for Dante they did fine.

As Dante plucked a plain black shirt and faded blue jeans from the wardrobe, he wondered how Trish was doing. He couldn't help but smile lightly about this. She was restless soul, ready to absorb knowledge like a dry thirsty sponge.

Whenever business was slowing, she would just run off. At first it was unsettling, though she already had gained his full trust. Upon her return she would constantly babble about where she had been and what she had seen and learned. Time after time again, Dante would steadily learn, that she indeed was travelling the world.

A world she had only known by poisoned words that were sown into her very existence. And when she had started to question it, thanks to Dante, she became curious. Like a young child she would venture out farther and farther until the city and the surrounding country became to small. And her thirst became bigger.

Dante's eyes flitted across the vast array of souvenirs. Some impressive, like the exact copy of the famous nose less sphinx or the snow globe with an intricate small Eiffel tower in the midst of other famous tourist sites.

Others were quite silly, like wooden clogs from some place in Europe with a bright flower pattern. He would kill himself before ever putting those on. Another was a square shaped teapot with union jack design. He offered the ugly thing to Vergil. He didn't want it either.

The stupid stuff clearly outnumbered the actual useful things, but Trish said, that it seemed to be a starnge unwritten rule in every souvenir shop around the world. Maybe except for the Japanese hair oil (which Vergil almost greedily accepted) or the Turkish mosaic lamp making it's home on his night stand.

And Trish had brought back also one of these huge, dramatic mirrors, joking he could practice his flirting faces in front of it. Like he needed to, really. First it kind of had creeped him out, but finally he found it added quite to rooms atmosphere.

It was like a private horror cabinet and Dante always took pride in all the trophies hanging from his walls. Knowing his quirks quite well, Trish had brought him also the head of one of the stone lions from Mallet Island.

These things had looked regal and sure had been a royal pain in the ass to fight. He grinned at the stone head, with mane and all, which decorated the space over his bed perfectly.

He always missed Trish when she was on her long travels, because, even he had enough insight into female business, he liked the womanly touch to the house. And because she never got tired of his jokes.

She was his soulmate, but on a completely platonic basis, in contrast to what other's believed. Not even Nero knew, that Trish had been made to look like his mother. And the thought of taking anything further never had crossed Dante's mind.

He had needed hours to calm Vergil down and explain their whole ordeal and how Trish eventually turned on Mundus to help him flee. Vergil would always be wary of her, but they actually were on friendly terms with each other. His twin came to the realization just how versed Trish was.

She showed so much exceeding knowledge from demonology, over medical treatment to speaking many different tongues forgotten or not. Decoding or translating old texts was next to nothing for her. And thus she might not have gained his friendship, but his respect for definite.

Dante didn't desire any thing beyond a good time to vent off steam. He wasn't interested in serious stuff. The one and only commitment he took seriously was his business. Which brought him back to the female currently residing within the devil household.

He had meant what he had said. She was good looking, bit thin, but that was about to get fixed. Having no home and be constantly in survival mode, had taken a toll on her. The malnutrition could be easily spotted. Her fingers, her hair, little details had given it away when he had started looking.

After she had showered, he had estimated her age somewhere close to Nero. At first he didn't give a damn about her in any other way than helping her out. It was good nature kicking in, if he wanted it or not. He was a constant flirt, he knew that and played with that image any given opportunity. And Devon didn't seem to mind him either.

Would it be inappropriate? Maybe, but how would he know if she responded. He would test the water. Inch by inch. Maybe she would respond to him. And if not then he wouldn't mind either He shrugged at his reflection in the mirror, which he had stared at for God knows how long.

He decided to not wear shoes. Or socks. He liked it to walk around bare footed. Something him and Vergil strangely had in common. Blowing his hair out of his eyes, he turned to see what everyone else was up to. The 'dancing' above him had already stopped long beforehand.

The very moment he had meant to open his door, he knew Vergil was on the other side. The flare in his brothers energy hit him unprepared. Same as the loud banging, violent enough to make the door shudder and crack. He chalked to another perfectly fine door ruined, not really an uncommon in his shop.

"Verge! What the hell?" Something clearly had his idiot brother in an uproar, though. And whatever put his brother in such a vile state, effectively resulting in the attempt to knock his door down, could only spell trouble. Lots of it.

"Dante. Get up!" Vergil hollerred, instead of providing an answer.

"I am!" Dante yelled back, obviously peeved. Can't one have even one minute of silence around here? And he chuckled to himself, usually it was the other way around. Vergil demanding silence and Dante causing a ruckus.

"Move! We have an appointment!" Vergil's voice boomed throughout the house and it didn't sound the slightest patient any longer.

Dante opened his door, to see Vergil waiting, impatiently tapping his foot and crossing his arms over his cheat. Completely dressed to boot. "Now:" He growled.

"What's the hurry, bro?"

"Nero told me, Johnny called last night. We must speak with him. Something's wrong."

In a matter of seconds, because Vergil's dark voice let no room for doubt, Dante, too, was dressed and downstairs in a mere second, his satisfied brother on hi s heels.

Nero watched both of them with great concern, because this was tremendously unbecoming of them. He already had established the situation to be somewhat severe, when he had heard Johnny's voice yesterday. Something wasn't quite right.

Johnny had sounded afraid.

Even if he didn't like the guy one bit, he had to give him credit for his always unshakeable, blithe demeanour. He was known to be dauntless. He rarely showed much concern for the demonic activities haunting the city, knowing full well he'd be more than able to stand his ground.

Yet, when both brothers performed a hasty departure, Nero suddenly knew why Johnny had already set his alarms off. When a nonhuman person, who successfully runs a night club in a city, that had seen so much demons and cursed beings, was afraid, the devil hunters had all the right reasons to be unsettled.

Nero retreated back into the kitchen for another coffee and to find something for to get occupied with while he waited for the twins to return. Only a short while later, when he had retrieved the newspaper from atop the stonestairs outside, a small voice was heard from the living room and he frustratedly slumped down in defeat. They all had forgotten about a certain someone.

Great.

Now it was up to him to clean up behind them and deal with a woman, who had witnessed something she better hadn't and no doubt had a ton of questions. But, estimating the situation soberly, he knew it would fall to him to watch the house and cater to their guest. Like the twins probably expected him to do.

* * *

Dante and Vergil visited Love Planet on a regular basis and were on friendly terms with the owner, who had changed after the destruction Temen-ni-gru had brought. The establishment was rebuild by the hands and undiminishing resources of a person named Johnny. And this time around, Dante had become easily became aqcuainted with the mysterious nonhuman.

At first, no one knew of his origins and secondly really bothered. In fact, that was on thing no one really talked about. It was not necessary and everyone minded his own business and would ask the same of others.

Dante just had known Johnny wasn't human either. The first time they met, a simple sniff told him as much. A curious smell of salty water. But neither made it the hairs on his back stand, nor did his inner devil show much concern, so he never really bothered.

The only puzzling thing was, neither Dante nor any other higher devil or demon could look past the human appearance Johnny had chosen to display. He was a very good looking lad, with his white blonde hair touching his shoulders and piercing eyes that glinted mildly amused all the time. He regularly made the ladies swoon over him whenever he entered the club, much to Dante's dismay.

Sort of like Trish, who could change appearances at will and as often as she liked, it had been safe to assume Johnny was higher, full fledged demon. Yet, the devil hunters seemed to have their plate continuesly full, and it wasn't always pizza, for it mattered only that Johnny was far from being a danger to anyone. Over the more, Johnny became a valuable and, which was much worth these days, reliable source for ongoing or looming threats.

Thanks to him, Dante, Lady and Trish never ran out of jobs, even though he wished they sometimes would.

This was all before Fortuna, Nero's relocation and Vergil's return.

On a later occasion, all three hunters eventually did find out from which supernatural stem Johnny truly originated from. And when they found out, it all clicked into place and made finally sense.

Johnny was a Siren.

And Nero had been the catalyst to uncovering the big mystery surrounding the fascinating being with it's enchanting voice and hypnotizing eyes.

Poor Nero, owning not the exact same immunity the twins possessed, because of his unequally distributed mix of demonic and human blood, had his natural resistance falter radically after being exposed to the natural allurement for to long.

Vergil and Dante had to step in and rscue the completel yflabbergasted partial demon from his unwilling determined tousle with Johnny. He had an infatuation with the youngest hunter, the twins couldn't understand. Well, they succeeded in resorting the matter on a peaceful and for all parties agreeable terms. Nero would stay the hell out of the place, especially when not accompoanied of either hunter. And Johnny received a friendly but resolute advice from Vergil. To cut him into tiny pieces and feed him to the fish in the bay.

No one ever spoke of this incident any more. So, it wa sbest for Nero stay home and watch the house upon their leave.

"I hope Nero takes care of her. I mean, didn't tell him to do so, but..." Dante scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"He knows, I'm sure. You should give him more credit. He is more reliable on that matter than you. You just go and expect things from him, without even specifying what exactly they are. You should be thankful he picks up more, than he is supposed to. And I'm positive, he will keep our involuntary house guest entertained."

"I guess so."

For Vergil the subject was settled with Dante's indifferent answer, so he dashed forward not minding, if his brother would be able to keep up with him or not.

As for Dante, yes, with a vast pool of stamina to call upon, the fast movement wouldn't even make him break in a sweat when running across the whole city, but trying to think and keep up with his brother in something like a mad race, a few huffs escaped him inadvertently, when he finally had caught up to Vergil.

His older twin stood in front of the entrance of the infamous Love Planet, that looked strangely serene in the rosy morning light. Vergil leaned next to the doors of the still closed establishment, fresh like morning dew, looking as if he had to wait hours for Dante, face a display of impatience and chagrin.

Without so much as a glance, Dante strutted past Vergil and the doors flew open under his outstretched palm. "Could've waited." He couldn't withstand to jibe either way.

"I did, right here." Vergil stated calmly, as he followed his brother inside. Dante only scoffed in return.

It was dimly lit inside and completely abandoned, except for one lonely presence somewhere hidden in the back behind huge double doors, which lead from the main hall to the secluded area and the private apartments. They crossed the hall, aiming for said door and it silently slid open, awaiting their arrival already.

"Neat." Dante commented smugly, sauntering down the hallway, which was exceptionally brighter than the rest of the club. It was the business premise after all and held a complete different and more sophisticates look than the full on cliché public area.

Across a long hallway, with many a sculpture or an expensive painting on display, they reached a golden double door, which as well opened miraculously by itself.

As expected, both were awaited eagerly. Two comfy looking armchairs stood in front a large desk, to which Dante's own one paled in comparison.

"Hah, would you look at that." Dante pointed at two tumblers already filled with an amber liquid. Vergil smiled mildly and instantly took a seat.

Johnny was a man of class, he thought as he went straight for one glass and tipped his head in a silent greeting, before tipping the glass and revelled in the taste of the wickedly expensive bourbon.

Dante didn't feel like sitting and instead leaned against the side of Vergil's chair, perching sloppily on the armrest. "Verge, you mind passing me mine?"

Without blinking or a single complain Vergil obliged, feeling charitable precipitated by the exquisite taste of the alcohol.

For Dante it took one large gulp to let the bourbon disappear, placing the glass next to his feet on the floor, too lazy to make extra effort to reach out and put it back on the desk.

Keen iridescent eyes, the colours of shiny pearls, zeroed in on the devil hunters, watching their actions intently and in solemn silence.

Dante he saw ever so often, as customer and as business partner, for most jobs these filtered through his trustworthy circles before ending up in their office. Which wasn't really an office anymore due to the fact, that Nero and Vergil both lived with the hunter now.

"My friends." His melodic, buoyant voice drew their attention in without any effort, indicating unmistakably what race he belonged to. Both devils found it hard to not hum in unison and the purest delight to hear it. Most humans couldn't even listen for a second before the spell enthralled them wholly.

Only their potent devil blood in their veins offered a secure resistance to the siren's heavy charm. Still, it could incite the most magnificent of feelings of pure ecstasy, if they would let it reign freely in their minds and hearts. Which neither was inclined to do at the moment, though Johnny was the epitome of good looks and a promise on two legs for pleasure in many ways.

But it was just his nature and nothing he had to try hard for, even in his casual jeans and plain white shirt, he was a gorgeous sight for sore eyes. His light blonde hair shimmered, when he inclined his head and folded his hands on the desk. But instead of his usual elated expression, when he saw the half bloods, it was laced with sad concern.

And the look of a saddened siren was even more dangerous than the other. The strongest man on earth could feel his heart break at such an overwhelming sight. This effect wasn't lost either on both Dante and Vergil.

Johnny's beautiful ageless face, devoid of wrinkles or any blemishes whatsoever spoke volumes. Vergil finally was the first to recover.

No greeting and straight to the point. "Show me." His voice was still thick as the siren's effects started to wear off.

Johnny leaned back in his chair in order to pull something from his pocket awkwardly.

"A bird flew into my office yesterday and landed on my desk. He put this down, " at this he reached his hand over for Dante to pluck the note from between his index and middle finger, "looked at me those small clever eyes and had the audacity to pick a hole into my desk."

Dante didn't bother to hide his smirk at this and the way Johnny complained, much like a sulking child.

"What kind of bird?" Vergil asked, genuinely interested by the odd behaviour of said creature.

"I don't know. A big one." Johnny painted a silhouette into the air with both his hands, looking genuinely clueless.

"A dove?" Vergil asked matter-of-factly. For his logical thinking, it was conclusive that this distinctive creature would be naturally chosen to deliver a message.

Johnny stroked his chin, looking highly concentrated. "That's a white bird, right?" The siren questioned in an uncertain voice. "No. No, it was black..."

Incredulously so, Dante followed their conversation until he became mildly irritated. "You're kidding, right?" It was a rhetorical question and Dante didn't wait for an answer. It was so unbelievable ridiculous, he even laughed at the poor, perplexed Johnny. "You live here since when? You should know such things by now!"

"I'm a business man, not an ornithologist." Visibly miffed, Johnny waved him off with his right hand.

At that Dante burst into boisterous laughter and slapped his thighs. "Yet, he knows how it's called." He pointed his finger at the siren as he turned his head to Vergil, who simply chuckled in return, for affirmation.

"It was black and huge, I tell you. Those tiny button eyes looked at me as if they were mocking me. And he wouldn't stop ruining my desk, until I shooed him off. And he gave me that look! He clearly understood that I called him an asshole." Johnny gushed out without pause, making his point clear he disliked the feathered creature greatly.

But the description was sufficient enough.

"A crow." Vergil's voice had dropped to speak in a dark, ominous voice.

Forgotten was Johnny who cheered, throwing his arms up in the air. "That's it! That's the bird."

"Bingo." Dante whispered, as his gaze dropped to the paper he had been flipping over and over in his hand all the while, a strange sense of foreboding tightened his stomach, drowning the loud obnoxious siren out.

He regarded the note intently, seeing it as some old scrap of parchment, folded twice. Chewing on his lower lip, his fingers gingerly peeled it open to finally read it.

And the world stopped for a second.


	6. long live the council

Chapter 5 - The Council is dead – long live The Council

* * *

"What have we done..." Death didn't utter this out of astonishment over their deed, but for all the extensive consequences they yet had to face. His dark, jaded voice had taken on an echo through the, from now on, empty halls of fire and brimstone.

The fires had died. The brimstone had vaporized, leaving the air chill and clear as the Four Riders rested from a long and weary battle.

Death sat on the stone steps he once used to kneel on, his heavily damaged, trustworthy scythes laying discarded beside him. War stood on the foot of said staircase, resting on his favored huge sword named Chaoseater, which was as equally jagged and blunted as his brothers scythes.

"The inevitable." A stalwart War replied, not nearly feeling as glum as his bother had sounded.

Free from chains. Free from severe punishment. Free from servile obedience.

The Charred Council was no more.

The watchers, all stripped of their exclusive power and purpose, had either fled and were spared, or slain upon resistance without mercy. And War had gladly taken it up as a personal task to do so. The only being, that remained intact and was unscathed was the Keeper of Oblivion, as one of the Old Ones not bound directly to the Council's power.

Death, seeing in him the honorable entity he was, gave only the executioner the freedom of choice. Death had felt compelled, feeling he owed him a great debt, to tell him beforehand of their plans, leaving it to him to fend for the Council or just let things take their respective course.

He chose the latter, staying true to his duty of an executioner, even though the Council was eliminated. Death had promised him though, they wouldn't leave the realms in the unwatched state, it was plunged into by the riders. Unfortunately, they had been pressed to take actions sooner than anticipated and it left them little to no time to spring into action.

Death gritted his teeth, finding little solace in the silence that surrounded the four of them.

He called for Strife and Fury, which settled next to War, looking up at him expectantly.

"Brothers. Sister." He announced with a solemn voice. "It is time."

Fury nodded, hair the ever moving flame around her delicate face and behind her head. She let her spiked whip crack once for the pure pleasure she took in the sound it made, before securing it to her side. Keen silver eyes staring back at Death.

Strife expertly twirled his guns before holstering them, his hair still in disarray and a charred mess after the days long battle. Loosing his beloved mask in the heavy fight, he showed Death his rarely seen wry smile. "What are we waiting for?"

Still it was an absolute miracle they had made it this far. And with Strife and Fury by their side. War had been the first to loudly voice out his need for the corrupted council to vanish. They lied, they betrayed. They only had been interested in what was best for them, not anyone else.

War had died, luckily to be reborn, after the seventh had been broken under Uriel's attack at the end of his long journey to prove his innocence. Death had to die in order to erase the crime he had been falsely accused off.

Uriel had asked how the reawakened War would hope to wage battle to protect himself from all of creation. "You would wage this war alone?"

"No. Not alone." He had replied, before revealing that the breaking of the final seal had called the other three Horsemen. The moment Death had immersed into the well of souls, sacrificing himself in order to resurrect mankind, he felt the pull of the seal's power as his life slipped from him.

As he had come face to face with War, never had he been happier to see his youngest sibling's stoic face. And because he had shed his mask prior to his selfless leap into the well, War could also see the alleviated pain in the oldest rider's expression.

Upon explaining and evaluating their dire situation and the desolate state the Council had been in, they had fled the scene together. And with the help of an old friend, not bound to any laws, for he was an Old One as well, they went into hiding, with their true powers finally unlocked due to all seals broken.

But of course, the watchers were on their heels, even if secured by a powerful entity and eventually forced to strike hard and fast.

Successfully so, yet still hard to grasp.

Death held each siblings stare for a brief moment. A strange gleam in his eyes and pride upon his face, before sending Strife and Fury off to their task, while he and War would pursue another one.

He knew Fury was able enough to keep Strife's loose mouth in check with rivaled heavily with his extremely short temper. Though, naturally he trusted both of them enough to carry out their task effectively.

"Find him. He prowls the third kingdom, like the true predator he is. Be wary." He spoke curtly, not patient enough to loose time over sentimental words. Their departure was swift and hush, knowing full well the impact of their deeds.

War advanced the stairs in a slow climb, settling down next to his acheronian sibling, enormous arms resting heavy armored knees.

"It worries me, brother." Death had his head lowered as he spoke. "Danzig had not been seen for month, nor did he leave a message behind."

"It all will turn out in our favor. Have faith." The red rider tried to assure him, even going so far as to pat his arm.

Death had learned to trust his gut feeling increasingly over his logical theorizations. He still had been puzzled about the sudden aid that had been offered quite selflessly by the trader.

And now he was about to follow his feeling once more. He had send Dust to the human realm shortly before they had commenced the onslaught on the Council. And he truly wondered, if the hunter and weapons master would aid them on their journey. Then again, Death saw no use in dwelling on possible outcomes. They soon would find out.

He stood up, gripping his scythe. Intently regarding War, who had risen to his feet as well, he couldn't help but chuckle darkly. This was a far cry from anything he had imagined when jumping into the well of souls.

"Let's see how our favorite halfbreed is doing these days. Maybe he knows where Danzig is hiding."

Yet, he found he had stayed true to his words from back then. He would protect War above all. And when his brother had wanted the Council gone, taking his much deserved revenge, Death would see it done.

"Ah, it is good to see the third kingdom prospering as ever." War stated, the moment they set foot on hot sand in the middle of a grainy, heavy sandstorm, not really knowing in what godforsaken corner of the third kingdom the malfunctioning portal had thrown them out.

Death quickly covered his face with the tattered cloak around his shoulders, while War endured it with astonishing stoicism, not so much as gritting his teeth.

"I cannot see a damn thing." Death grouched next to him, trying to shield his eyes from the gusts of wind.

War squinted his eyes, evenly focusing on his surroundings. The sun was high above them, though veiled by the sandstorm. He moved to shield his brother from the wind and started to walk. As long as they pressed on, the direction didn't matter, they had to eventually come across some sort human made structures.

Death, guarded by War's tall and broad figure, too, had time to look around, if only a little. His brother lead the way and he'd let him for the time being. He just hoped for this weather nuisance to pass quickly.

Walking seemingly endless, still clad in heavy armor no less, both riders started to experience the fatigue the human realm brought upon them.

They would need a rest soon, and the sun was setting. But the storm had lessened considerably, until they were able to walk side by side again.

"I hate this place." Death grunted in disgust.

"Yet, if we'd landed in the city, you would still state the exact same thing." War knew, Death just wasn't much a fan of inconvenience altogether.

"Your point?" Death snarled.

"We should have visited the forge lands, before coming here."

Seeing as how poorly equipped there were, both with dull, damaged weapons and broken armor, Death understood perfectly, yet couldn't see the benefit in delaying any further in favor of new equipment.

It would have to suffice for now and there was no guarantee it would have presented them with a better outcome. Rules on earth were different. They'd still be stronger than anything else roaming the realm.

"And we'd be lost just same, only in a damp forest I'd venture. So, no." Death quipped.

"It would have spared me from having sand between my teeth."

Death just hoped for Dust to return to him soon. He would find them a way across this wasteland.

They had so little time and so much to do and Death just hoped on Strife's and Fury's end it would look better than here.

Death knew, how much of a risk it posed to have the Council's influence vanished and the Riders scattered across the third kingdom, looking for potent assets on their journey.

Upon giving in on War's request, they all had established that it was a crucial time. The late Council couldn't have been allowed to reign any further in it's beyond corrupted state it had been in.

In this very moment they were jeopardizing their whole existence, willingly so.

No Council - no balance. The treaties where void and nullified the moment they had slaughtered the higher entity, and he would wonder just how long it would take Heaven and Hell to get a whiff of what was going on.

How the White City, seeing them as ever loyal to the balance, would react, Death wouldn't know . One thing though, he was relatively sure off, Azrael would be out to have his head on a pike.

Death probably had done everything possible to strain their relationship beyond repair in the past, but he also knew he could reason with the wise archangel. And he deemed him wise enough to hold the forces of heaven back, when he learned of their deeds, to avoid unnecessary bloodshed among his kin.

With Hell, he was not so sure. After seeing to Earth as first task, they had to deal with the realm evidently. Samael had already lost the crown and the newest occupant of the throne was still the great unknown but subsequently a force to be reckoned with.

Earth, seen as the weakest out of the three kingdoms, was the realm in most imminent danger again. And Death wouldn't let his sacrifice let go to waste.

To find Danzig was essential to the plan. Only he would have the power and wisdom to give them a direction that posed the lesser risk for all.

Also the needed new members for the Council. And Death would feel less weight on his shoulders, if the old being would accept a place among it. Their list of possibilities and assets was short. On the bright side, it wouldn't take a long duration to sift through the potential allies.

One thing at a time though, to hasten things would only lead to mistakes. And mistakes would lead to failure. Just like War had said, he needed to have faith. And luck.

Death hated to entrust things to something so fickle as luck. Or coincidence. Additionally, he'd only ever put his trust in actions rather than words.

As night settled in, dousing the seemingly endless and never changing landscape into an eerie dull gray, on the far horizon peeking structures with blinking lights came into view.

Death and War exchanged a restrained, but assertive look. It would seem yet luck was on their side. The old city of rain and stone, standing on top of ancient ruins, was almost reached. And far above them a caw hailed them, indicating Dust's thrill to be reunited with his master.

* * *

"Verge..." Dante cooed, falling behind fairly quick.

Vergil heard him clearly, but ignored him no less. He wouldn't let any unnecessary distraction hinder him. He warped as fast as possible, inconsiderate about loosing Dante on his frantic dash back home.

The ominous note proved itself to be more disturbing, than expected. And Dante's current quarrel behind his back ground down on his more than edgy nerves.

He was anxious.

"Verge, stop for a second." Dante huffed, half pleadingly to no avail. The stoic twin continued relentlessly, depleting his brother's stamina rapidly, which further more stumped Dante.

"Holy shit magnet with a stick!" The younger twin yelled, loud enough for the nearest flock of birds to shoot up into the sky and flee the scene. "Stop!"

Vergil halted abruptly, having Dante almost crash into his back. With a last step to side, he let Dante come to screeching halt.

"What's the matter?" Dante huffed, rubbing his temples.

Vergil inclined his head, lowering his gaze and crossed his arms. A defeated sigh escaped him. "What's the matter?" He repeated the moronic inquiry mockingly.

Dante pursed his lips, not feeling up to have an argument, and remained silent, just arching his left brow in question.

Vergil's straight up and tensed posture let him know, how annoyed he was.

Upon reading the note it was obvious something had occurred, good or bad was not known.

However, didn't Death announce after they had been forced to a joint struggle with the riders back then, he had some business to take care of and would revisit them afterwards?

The note they received was indeed beyond vague, not specifying an exact time for his arrival. Only that it was urgent and, cue the sarcasm how unsurprising, foreshadowing danger. But no doubt, the business taken care of had caused a greater business that needed to be taken care of.

 _hunter_

 _await my arrival soon_

 _we must speak_

 _the balance is in danger_

What possessed the pale rider this time to visit earth, again in secrecy as it appeared, which was partially disturbing. The last time Death had entered this realm, he had willingly jeopardized the safety of earth with his unsanctioned actions.

This had occurred over ten years ago, Dante and Vergil had been quite new to the demon hunting business. In trying to discretely righting his wrong, Death had appeared on Earth and eventually had crossed path with the hybrids. Combining their efforts, a vast knowledge was granted to them of the universe with many worlds beyond. The twins learned of the Four Riders, the Charred Council and how they home world was looked after for the ever precious balance was protected by the last four of the Nephilim race.

Vergil wasn't willing to be reminded of the things that had followed Death's trail of actions. Or of how Vergil had been instigated to pursue his very own agenda. And of his failure to carry out his task. Of how they had met one of the Keepers, banished souls, that sought refugee on Earth for centuries. And how this had altered his life and motivations.

His hands were soiled with the blood of innocent people. How he would ever be able to redeem himself to his brother was still beyond him.

"Dante, please. We must get back. What, if he shows up right now?" Highly unlikely, Dante thought, however the anxiety in Vergil's voice startled him visibly. And he relented, understanding Vergil's urge to return to their home as swiftly as he saw fit. "Go ahead. I'll catch up to you."

Dante didn't need to tell him twice. Vergil's face blurred for a split second and a gust of wind hit Dante's face. He stood for a moment, face turned upward to the sun. Such a bright day, which wasn't exactly unheard of, but still very uncommon in the city of stone and rain.

This couldn't be good.

Vergil continued his hasty warp to home. If Dante had been worried as well, he couldn't say. If so, he'd masked it pretty well. Or was Vergil acting irrationally?

He couldn't risk it though, having the rider encounter Nero without anyone present to update him, that he wasn't an enemy, but an acquaintance and expected. He could already picture Nero going ballistic on Death, if he tried to enter their home, knowing he was able to track them down this fast.

Nero wouldn't want to trust him. And why would he? He would sense the danger the rider posed, with an aura effective enough to rile every demon's or hybrid's blood up, even if it wasn't meant for him to fear. Additionally, the pale rider wasn't exactly the patient type either, so this mixture was bound to explode.

Vergil replayed and analyzed every possible turn and outcome of such an encounter, and it would always be the same. Nero would attack first and ask questions later, misjudging the whole situation altogether because he would feel threatened to act rashly.

An opponent as powerful as Death, he had yet to come across and the pale rider would not so much but bat an eye to end the young man right there and then, if he'd be attacked. And there would be nothing in the young man's power to escape his fate.

Then, it would be Nero's blood on his hands as well. And that thought scared him beyond being able to think reasonably.

The constant reminder of ill judged conditions on his side always within sight in the form of his twin, so to never let his mind know rest, had hardened his resolve to never take chances or underestimate danger.

He had learned the hard way and paid with his life for his misconceptions. This was his punishment. And he endured it like he had endured everything else. He was indebted. And he would be damned, if he wouldn't try to repay it. Nero and Dante had become his sole priority.

Vergil really didn't know, when he became so attached to Nero in particular, seeing as he had never really been able to detach himself from Dante, no matter how hard he had tried. He was painfully aware of it, as he arrived at the door, acknowledging with relief the wards were still untouched.

Forged with their own blood, they allowed only the hunters to pass them as they pleased. Dante even had the mind to include Devon's blood, which he had retrieved from the bloodied clothes she had worn when arriving here.

As he entered the house he was met with silence. No soul was around to sense and it disturbed him from anew. Vergil made short work of inspecting every room, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

Discarded clothes both in Nero's room and the bath, one pile had the woman's scent on them. Shower curtain and air still slightly damp. They must have left not long ago.

As he entered the kitchen, a look out of the window told him the car, which was usually parked in the alley next to the house, was gone as well. His eyes fell upon a practically shredded box of pop tarts. Empty.

Vergil sunk down on his chair at the table and heaved a sigh. Whatever they were up to he couldn't guess, but it appeared that everything was in order.

His eyes narrowed, as he looked sideways.

"The kids are both fine." Dante announced, sauntering in, waving several scribbled notes he'd picked up from his desk, in front of Vergil's face.

The twin nimbly took them off his hand.

At first he scowled.

 _ **Went shopping. Nero.**_

 _ **Also, we ate all your pop tarts. They were delicious.**_

The handwriting changed. Vergil knew it ought to be Devon's.

 _Nero made me do it._

This was obviously for Dante, since Vergil detested those nasty thing wholeheartedly. The more he read, the more his brows wandered up..

 _S_ _ **he ate five. Accidentally apparently.**_

 _He ate ten._

 _ **She was going to eat in the car.**_

 _He said it was his anyway and wouldn't matter._

 _ **That's what you get for doing nothing around the house except for eating and sleeping.**_

He regarded Dante with a chuckle, before his eyes widened advancing to the last note.

 _Same goes for Verge. Minus the eating, Nero said to tell you_

 _ **Devon used your mint soap**_

 _I also used up your shampoo_

 _ **Don't worry Verge, we got you covered.**_

 _ **Laters.**_

Dante smirked, nibbling on his right thump, while swaying back and forth on his feet. He was the picture perfect image of a cat that ate the canary.

"They seem to get along well." Vergil's voice hinted sarcasm. He placed the notes on the table, before scowling up at Dante. "You'd knew this would happen." Vergil huffed. Nero was already getting attached and most likely, it was the other way around as well.

"So, what." Though, Dante could say he was pleased with this, he could care less.

Beside the twins, who had Nero really? He was lonely, whenever Dante and Verge were away. Nero never complained about this particular circumstance, other than arguing, he was a legit part of the business as well and wanted to accompany them instead of keeping watch. He did not understand, it was their way to keep him out of harms way.

Reading between the lines, Dante was aware, he was sometimes frustrated to be left to his own devices ever so often. In addition, Nero greatly differed from them when it came to ordinary things, that neither Dante nor Vergil were interested in he had no one to share his enthusiasm about things he liked and enjoyed.

The boy had mad skills, thanks to the demonic essence in his blood, and put it to good use whenever he could. He picked up on things by just looking at them. Like fixing the car and the bike for instance, or anything that broke in the household for that matter. He loved to cook, even worked part time at Cesare's place when he first got here, simply for the comforting company of the fatherly man and in learning to expand his hobby.

Because of the ordinary, but secluded upbringing in a society of dusty tradition in Fortuna, Nero still have had the luxury of experiencing a fairly normal growing up, though part of his early childhood was missing from his memory - which maybe was even for the better, considering how he had been altered to become a hybrid.

In short, the young man had rediscovered, that he was hungry for life after coming to terms with his depression.

Who could blame him for that? And maybe, just maybe, Dante had made a decision with far more consequences, good or bad, than at first glance.

Along the way, the hybrids had tried so hard to provide Nero with a carefree and peaceful life, both of them had never the chance to experience, they had forgotten that they, too, were a part of his life.

Dante always had to look after himself from a very young age on, with nothing but an old geezer to care for him, who was unfortunately a declared escapist. And Vergil had a ten year gap, he still tried to compensate, completely missing from his life.

Still, Nero looked up to both them, sharing the brotherly way of love way, even if they all had difficulties to properly express it.

"The kids need to learn from anew where they stand and want to expect from life. How to socialize once again. You know, Nero needs more than two completely screwed up jerks as role models."

"You want her to stay, am I right?" Vergil asked warily, seeing it his twins face, as he already had made his decision.

Dante shrugged lightly, walking over to the counter. "Everybody deserves a second chance." He said gently, without looking at Vergil, languidly fiddling the tattered empty box of strawberry pop tarts.

"Don't I know it." Which didn't mean he was to keen to have a human around all the time. And how exactly Dante was planning to explain what and who they were was beyond him. This was a mistake, endangering her as much as them. But he felt to tired for once to have a discussion.

Dante smiled to himself at this. "Only for a while, until she can take care of herself. What's one more punk ass kid to feed, eh?"

Vergil rose slowly, giving Dante a last condescending look though. "I hope you know what' you are doing." He muttered darkly as he left.

"When have I ever...?" Dante whispered, distraught by Vergil's sudden change of mood.

* * *

"Shame, we're not gonna see their faces when they read those!" Nero and Devon were still giggling at how they probably succeeded to piss both twins off equally, after they had dropped al the notes on Dante's desk and escaped the scene rather quickly, with Nero driving the car across town on a lazy Sunday afternoon pace.

At first he really had just meant to let them know, where they are to not have them worry. It escalated quickly, though. And he certainly did not anticipate Devon to play along until it turned to a hilarious banter of snitching each other.

"I'd rather not. Oh my God, I already regret doing that." Devon crouched into the seat, hiding her face with both hands.

"Ah, don't worry. Dante can take a joke. Or Two."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"Vergil?" Nero grinned in surprise. "He can take good joke, too."

"Really? He seemed scary." Devon admitted, eyes cast down. She admonished, how she had embarrassed herself in front of the stoic twin, and probably had gotten herself on his bad side completely with the insolent scribble.

But it was so funny, she'd think she'd do it again regardless. Something had clicked between Nero and her. And it was so pleasant and warm, when they had burst into fits of laughter over something s stupid.

She pulled a pained face and Nero couldn't help but giggle. "Really, he's not going to murder you, if that's what you are afraid of. He doesn't bite, nor bark when you think about it."

"I noticed." Strange enough, he was right. "That look, though." She tried to re-enact it, much to Nero's utter delight. This was rather cute than scary, her eyebrow not matching the delicate, perfect curve Vergil sported. It looked ridiculously out of place on her face.

"Yeah, he got that one down to perfection." Nero replied, while nodding. "I promise you though, you'll get immune to it as well."

"I'll take your word for it." Devon didn't sound convinced, but certainly did hope so. But she simply couldn't forget how it had made her feel so small. She was sure, she'd never met someone so intimidating with trying so little to none.

"I'll be there to protect you, if he does anything." Nero offered half jokingly, but Devon looked downright scared. "So, you do think he will? No, no, no."

"I wasn't being serious. Take it easy. He's surprisingly easy to talk to." When he was in a good mood.

Devon shook her head in denial, it clearly wasn't the vibe he gave off, not in the slightest. "I'd still rather not."

"Eventually you'll have to." He shrugged, scratching the back of his head.

Nope, not in her books. She'd avoid it by any means. "We'll see, I guess."

Nero had no idea how long Dante was planning on letting her stay, so eventually they had to get along. And Vergil couldn't hide in his room forever.

How Nero exactly felt about that he couldn't really say. She seemed nice. And funny after she gotten past that initial timidness and it had eased himself up in the process.

Normally. Nero and females did not mix, though. At all. The only ones he was alright to be around were Trish and Lady. And, as funny as it sounded, he did not even regard them as females any more. They were fellow hunters. Comrades. Nothing more, nothing less.

Even when first meeting with either of them had left him in a flustered state, soon after he had moved in with Dante and became accustomed to the women, it had changed. They viewed him as equal.

He had appreciated the faith they had put in him. When he regarded them now, all those lady assets were lost on him. Trish felt like a mentor to him as much as Dante and Vergil. But after Fortuna, he learned her to be a restless mind. Very smart and inquisitive. Keen like a dagger. She was also fun to be around, matching Dante's persona a surprising amount.

But nowadays when business was slow, Trish wasn't around. She loved to travel and see the world. And everytime she returned with lots of stories and souvenirs, which probably piled up messily somewhere in Dante's room.

His relationship to Lady wasn't even that close, when he thought about it. She wasn't someone easy to talk to and mostly all business with him. He had come to realize, that she was very capable and held her ground seeing she was only human, but also extremely tough. She wasn't as pleasant to be around as her exterior would suggest.

Lady had witnessed and became a part of the bitter fight between brothers. Since then she never left Dante's side, but had grown into a respectable devil huntress herself. Nero and her got along pretty good, though she had a more materialistic disposition than any of them, that irked him sometimes. But they could count on her when it truly mattered. That was all they needed to know.

And since Kyrie, Nero ever again had ventured beyond friendship. By choice, by guilt, by conviction or all of it mixed together to an unhealthy bitter cocktail. He was up to the point where he believed his interests had died with her.

So far, any advance by a female, he had brushed aside brusquely, leaving absolutely no room for misinterpretations for the opposite party. That he had in common with Vergil. Somehow, in spending time with the older twin, he involuntarily had assumed the same demeanour in a frightening way, because he had witnessed on occasion at how politely, but with determined coldness Vergil had neutralised any interests in him to an imminent success.

And frankly, the flirtatious nature of Dante never had been Nero's thing to begin with.

Still, in this very moment with the young woman, he could not explain his beginning timidness. Maybe because she was a poor, but brave little being, polite, nice and utterly helpless, that had sparked something in him. The way she pushed onto, had irked him, but he found he couldn't put the blame on her when Dante was at fault.

He even went so far as to relate to her. When he, a completely clueless mess, came to the city, he too felt lost and overwhelmed. Though, with Dante's help he quickly adapted to his new situation. Devon was probably experiencing the same, when coming to Devil May Cry. Nero thought it only to be fair to at least give her some form of guidance.

Devon on the other hand was unsure, if she really wanted the company. If she even was able to appreciate it. Her first and foremost goal all these years was self protection. From anything. But mostly physical harm that lurked in the city. But here, she found the danger of receiving pain of a different kind to be more prominent.

She didn't want to get involved to much with them. Dante had awoken a longing in her, that she thought had lost. The longing for company. A contact of ever sort. Physical or mental all the same. But, her injuries would heal sooner or later. She was afraid already. Afraid to be cast away when they deemed her fit enough, she had to leave.

And who was she kidding? Of course this was only temporary. Even with all the kindness shown to her, she knew it couldn't be avoided. And everybody moved on. She would have to.

They both started to speak simultaneously.

"Hey, how did y-" Nero stopped, when he saw, she had started at the same time. "Where are w- "

Another awkward moment of silence ensued, until he felt himself grin. Uncontrollably. This was so stupid, he thought. And she must have felt quite the same, for she grinned as equally wide and stupidly as him.

His focus swayed from the road ahead towards her and their eyes met for an embarrassing long moment. Neither said anything, until Nero had to mind where he was driving. He had avoided to look at her the whole time, but when he did so now, it came to mind what Dante had said. And he had to agree, she had cleaned up nicely.

Devon looked ahead to focus on anything else then the splendid view beside her. But her resolve to get him talk hardened nonetheless.

"What was it, you- ?" But he drowned her question out with his own words. Again. "I asked, where do you kn- " And he broke off his once more, the same time she did.

Now it was getting ridiculous. And they both started to outright laugh at their awkward failing attempts to talk to each other.

Nero simply motioned with his right hand for her to speak first, he would keep his mouth tightly shut this time.

"I just wanted to ask, where exactly we are going?" Devon did recognize these parts, but it was a dangerous venture for her alone and she had always avoided it like the plaque. So, with slight unease, she wondered where exactly he planned on taking her.

"Oh, still a ways. There's this big market on the outskirts?" He more asked, to see if she was familiar with it.

Devon didn't. Those long miles had her always scared, if she would make it back and frankly, she had no reason to go there in the first place. She had about it, though. Eventually, she simply nodded, eyes wandering around aimlessly until they stopped at his right hand.

And he noticed it. He still felt the strong itch to hide his gloved hand, but quickly berated his self-consciousness. He saw the curiosity burning in her eyes, but forced his brain to ignore it altogether. It was simply out of question.

Instead he chose to gain her attention with repeating his own earlier inquiry. "You know, I was wondering. Dane and you. I was just, you know...curious...how do you both know each other?" In truth, he wanted to hear her say, if she knew anything about his occupation at all. Because up until now, her behaviour clearly spelled her clueless.

And by god, was he itching to get this stupid glove off his arm and hand. It was sticky and sweaty already. The leather left his demonic arm no room to breath. It annoyed him to no end, whenever he had to put it on. And as long she was around, he had to.

"Oh, it was nothing special. He just stumbled across me one day as my bag of groceries broke. He helped me bring it home. That was actually quite a few years ago. And after that we met a few times by coincidence. At first I was creeped out. But he was quite nice, as awful as it sounds, to call someone just nice. But, well, you know him. He can be charming. And persuasive." She tried to explain and avoid the to delve into the topic all at once.

She had a home once. Had. Lost it, when the city attempted to spiral down into the hell hole it was, day by day. It never was just your average big city and always had a stark and mysterious aura to it because of it's old stone structures, Just like the constant rain, that drenched the cobble stone streets into a melancholic undercurrent.

After that accursed tower had appeared it became even more evident. And the skeleton of withered rock did not vanish completely. In the years after, new and stranger folk gathered. But Devon stayed. This was home, this was all she knew. Until it was too late.

"Sounds like him." Nero simply stated.

"He is nice, isn't he?" Devon asked softly, eyes glued to her hands as she put the first plate down and went for the next. She even didn't know why she asked that. It made her sound stupid. He was, that much was certain and even if he wasn't, Nero wouldn't be the one to admit.

Nero gave her a strange look. Because the way her voice sounded. It was a mix of a desperate need for reassurance. Almost anxious.

"He is. He's always like this. And he loves it. Don't worry." It sounded corny, though it couldn't be more true. His statement earlier would seem like shameless boasting to anyone who didn't know Dante's nature and motives for what he was doing. But it was the sole truth.

Dante was the good guy. Nothing more, nothing less. And he was fighting against any evil or injustice as if his own life depended on it with a recklessness to boot, that showed how little he valued it in the same time. Though Vergil had confirmed to him one time, when Dante had been younger, it had been even worse.

If someone would ask Dante to die for any of them, he would. With a smile on his face. But Nero highly doubted such power even existed. From what information he could get out of Vergil, Trish and Lady, maybe there wasn't even any one left standing to affront the raw power that was Dante.

"I thought so." Devon nodded to herself. "And I wished for him to be the good guy, the moment I saw him. He helped me out and asked for nothing in return." She admitted quietly, and she did not mean to say it out loud but the moment she did, it earned her an understanding smile from Nero.

"I kinda get what you mean."

He remembered how meeting Dante for the first time hadn't been his favourite experience. Though, the way he held himself in all his cockiness, he assumed despite how he killed His Holiness in seemingly cold blood, he could make people feel that he meant no harm if he truly wanted to. Even with his first appearance. Maybe even more so when he had been a few years younger.

Nero remembered vividly as soon as Dante had beaten him, that the hunters whole attitude had changed. He became softer and quieter, almost showing some kind of vulnerability about the sword. He had radiated an aura of compassion, worthy of Nero's trust. And from this point on he never had questioned Dante's motives any longer.

He was a good, upstanding man, concealing his good intentions with lame jokes and a happy-go-lucky attitude an unmatched sassiness to boot. Nero owed Dante big time and the older man never lost a single word about that.

"He does have that effect on people." Nero replied solemnly, not able to hide the faint, but deep admiration.

This moment marked it for Devon. Plus the way, Nero behaved during his statement, that Dante was much more than he first seemed. The way Nero said his statement implied heavily that he too had been saved by Dante. The underlying sadness did not go unnoticed by Devon, as well.

Those seven uttered words revealed more to her than Nero had intended.

Right there, in the very household these three shared, was something warm and fuzzy hiding under the surface and she wished she would be able to stretch her hand out and actually touch it. She thought it would be hot enough, to almost singe her heart when she would reach it.

If Devon could pride herself in something, it was the knowledge of how to judge people. Dante. Nero. Even Vergil. All had the same mysterious aura. And not just the hair gave it away. She could have been blind for all she knew, still she would have felt it. The deep connection was evident. And deeper than they let on.

"Do you know about that cursed tower?" Devon asked him out of nowhere after a while.

Nero almost swerved too far right when she did.

Of course, she knew about the tower. Everyone did.

He observed her for a second, not knowing what to say. He only knew a fraction of the story behind it, still it was more than she knew, he strongly hoped.

"I didn't live here, when it happened. I only know, what people like to tell. Which isn't all that much..." He trailed off, hoping it would settle the matter and keep her from asking too many questions he had to lie about. He was a poor liar and well aware of it. "Why?" He still had to ask, despite not feeling confident enough to discuss it. Nonetheless, he had to admit he was curious.

People had left the town in hordes, that was at least how Dante had put it. Why she had stayed, was the reason he opted to further pursue the topic.

"Have you ever been there?" Devon asked warily, ready to observe Nero's expression. To her dismay, he only nodded, as if in deep thought.

He knew the ruins, with nothing in it's center. It still stood there overshadowing the destroyed part of the city. A harsh reminder of what had occurred.

"You know, I went there one day." Devon told him with still assessing eyes, maybe waiting for a reaction. But Nero just inclined his head to listen. "Inside the shell there is nothing but broken black marble floor, though. But it's got an unsettling feeling to it as soon as you reach the inner space. No doubt, it was where all those creatures came from."

"Creatures?" He hesitantly used the same term, threading dangerous paths already. "What...creatures?"

"I don't know. Haven't seen them." Devon suddenly shrugged with a nonchalance, that didn't quite fit her. She seemed to hide as much as he did for a second, for a shadow briefly flitted across her face. For whatever reason he could not guess.

Maybe it had been, where she had lived? She had mentioned earlier, that Dante had helped her getting her stuff home. The possibility dawned on Nero, that maybe they hadn't lived too far away from each other eventually. The tower had broken out of the earth close to Dante's shop at that time and it got completely wrecked during a demon attack.

No, it could not be the reason she was a homeless. It all had happened ten years ago. No one could survive for that long all alone. Not the state the city had turned into afterwards. It was still a breeding ground for demons. Only the desperate, fearless and the non-humans had stayed.

It was a melting pot of a rotten society, which had formed between all those people in many years. Nero pondered to which type she belonged. He didn't mean it in it a bad way, but fearless wasn't the first thing that came to mind when observing her. Though she did survive that robbery widely unscathed except for a few cuts or scratches.

But when he thought about it, and Dante had met her first years ago, Nero could not help but start to admire her, if she had lived among the ruthless and reckless and managed to keep herself alive. Maybe there was more to her than met the eye. And he hoped it wouldn't came back to bite them, though he was sure Dante would have noticed.

Nero was glad when the big red sign on the side of the road announced they had arrived, for he would need to stop thinking pointless back and fro and actually had to focus on the shopping list he had set up in his mind.

The parking lot was fairly empty and he found a good spot to park the car. They hopped out and made their way for the shopping carts. He quickly patted himself down for change for a cart.

All the while, Devon observed her surroundings with wide eyes. This was quite different from the inner city. There were trees growing and grass covered the area around the huge market and the parking lot and beyond it a desert stretched as far as the eye could see.

People walked past them with carts full of things she'd never had the money to acquire. Children begged their parent for sweets and one even had a balloon.

Devon swore inwardly, for she never had found the courage to come this far out. It almost seemed like a whole different world. When she turned, Nero stood beside her, pushing a cart forward. And she secretly wondered why the three man opted to live in the city and not out here, where it seemed so much more peaceful.

She followed him silently inside and was completely at loss of words. The alleys were broad and goods stacked up too high for her to reach. It smelled clean and of fresh air, because of the ventilation system that hummed soothingly somewhere above them.

Soft music came out of speakers, which she couldn't see. And when she saw his amused expression, she became painfully aware of how ridiculous clueless she must have looked.

Nero indeed noticed but brushed it off, sensing her awkwardness and made his way to start with the aisle full of fruits and vegetables.

"If you see anything you like, just tell me." The yet again the generous offer startled her. He didn't let her time enough to answer. "And there still are a few things you might need as well. We can get almost anything here."

And it was true. Her eyes roamed the signs down the market, labelling what goods were in which aisle. Nero grabbed three packages of strawberries and Devon watched him curiously. Who would have known.

"For Dante." He simply declared, rather seriously. "He loves them."

So, apparently the decision to go shopping with him evidently promised to get real entertaining and offering her far more insight, than she had first anticipated.

"Do you like strawberries?" He asked incidentally, keeping the conversation going. It was nice to have some company for a change and he realised this presented a great opportunity to chit chat and maybe get to know each other a bit better.

The awkwardness had subsided. And Nero kind of delved into his element unbeknownst to her. All she noticed was at how expertly and confident he inspected the produce before putting it in the cart. Or not, if it wasn't to his linking.

Four packages of dark grapes swiftly accompanied the other items. Four. Devon shook her head in disbelief.

"Vergil." Nero clarified nonchalantly, before moving on.

"Watermelon?" His voice floated over to her, still standing there dumbfounded.

He knocked on it, she looked clueless. His face was displeased and he knocked on another one. "This one's perfect."

Devon did not know if she should be amused or not at his total serious business of finding the right watermelon.

"Sure." She shrugged, catching up to him. To her, who had to live of a single sandwich for three days at least, this was preposterous. And he certainly had not joked, when he had told her they had run out of everything. Literally it seemed.

Apples, oranges, kiwis, bananas, peaches, kiwis, wild berries. And of course, the aforementioned grapes and strawberries.

Cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, paprika in red and yellow, carrots, avocados, broccoli. A variety of mushrooms. Pickles.

Devon's head swam upon seeing all the things he had already stacked up in the cart. And by the time, they were halfway across the market, it was almost full. Nero had made short work of gathering even more things, while Devon had volunteered to watch the cart. Every now and then he disappeared only to drop something and running off again.

Herbs and flour. Sugar. Salt and other seasoning. Expensive looking olive oil and two different types of vinegar.

Geez. Devon had a hard time, trying to follow him in his shopping spree. She eventually tried pushing the cart forward to catch up to him. Nero, completely forlorn and lost in his task forgot she was injured. And Devon didn't mention, wanting to at least keep slightly up with him.

Cereals, bread, toast, cans and glasses filled with different toppings. And their stop at the meat counter made Devon question Nero's sanity all over again. This was too much. It would all spoil and rot, before they could eat it all up, she was sure as hell.

Every so often, when Nero dropped anything peculiar into the cart, Devon would ask about it. And surprisingly Nero would share his baffling amount of vast knowledge about it, like cooking methods and recipes. He was quite in his element and eager to share and indulge someone polite enough to listen to whatever he said.

So, Devon learned he was very interested and well versed in the cooking department. Another thing she clearly hadn't anticipated from him.

Who the hell was this guy? And how was it he was able to gather this much knowledge at a fairly young age? Was he some kind of child prodigy? Suddenly he had nothin gin common anymore with the aloof young man, she had met only yesterday at Cesare's place.

She huffed and puffed, as Nero returned for the umpteenth time. He even had the audacity to look as fresh as mountain dew, not even breaking out in a light sweat when he hauled in bottled water, orange juice, beer and even red and white wine, two bottles of each.

Damn him and his stamina. He wasn't even out of breath once.

Devon had to give and rested her upper body on the cart, elbows on the handle, head down. She gritted her teeth. This morning, when changing the bandages herself she had been quite positive about the healing. Already. Which she kin dof learned happened pretty quickly most of the time.

As Nero came back, she straightened up immediately. But he gave her a concerned once over. "You alright?" He asked as he placed his human hand on her shoulder to hold her in place to take a closer look at her. He could have smacked himself upside down the head for letting her push the heavy cart. Devon put up a brave face, was clearly in pain.

As he regarded with an overall concerned face that burned a hot hole right into her stomach, she knew she was blushing. He was so close, for he bent slightly down.

God, he was really tall, wasn't he?

The proximity allowed her for the first time to have a fantastic, breath taking close up of those light blue eyes, which had the color of glacier ice, but turned a shade darker on the outline of the iris.

Only one word could describe them. Otherworldly.

She averted her gaze, her cheeks had heated up perceptibly. Nero removed his hand slowly. It slid down her arm and he even squeezed in means to console her.

In his moment, she felt like a gust of heated air blew right through her solid form. Like the silver ring of a church bell, it vibrated within her heart. The bell had sounded close an clear and seemed to echo around her, clouding her mind for a second. She felt the twist in her heart it provoked, to finally burst into a longing that made her flinch physically. The longing for the something so bright, she couldn't see it, as her inner eye was blinded by so much light, they were close to watering.

Devon swallowed hard. What just had happened?

One look at Nero told her, she might have imagined things, for he looked as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

The ringing bell had sounded only in her head. "I'm okay. Really. It's just really heavy." Her voice sounded more assured than she actually felt. His touch lingered on, even after he removed his hand.

Nero pushed the cart on, but made sure she would keep up. He didn't mean to grab a hold of her like this. He just did. The flinch, he had anticipated did not come, though. No hostile reaction whatsoever, only those wide eyes that had flitted across his features.

He had seen her eyes were a pallid green. He had been close enough to even see the few specks of brown in her right iris. He had never seen an anomaly like that before.

Her skin looked a healthy rose and he had felt warmth radiate through the fabric of her clothing, where he had touched her. Maybe, she had been honest. And he had to admit, the cart was indeed heavy. An impish grin escaped him, when he still managed to push it single-handedly though.

"You are a show-off." At first Nero misjudged the tone of her voice to be fretful. As soon as he turned his head, her mocking smile came into focus. Her finger pointed accusingly at his right hand.

He snorted. "You should see me..." He halted briefly. The slight comfort that had built around them, crumbling away from him and leaving him horrified, about what had almost rolled of his tongue.

"What?" Big eyes seemed to hollow him out, burning with curiosity. And a hint of suspicion.

With his sword. "Chopping vegetables." He concluded, as innocent as he could manage.

This wasn't his initial answer and Devon knew it. Damn, that was so close. Maybe as close as she would ever get, she thought by the brief shock in his eyes. He had masked it oh so very quick and she acted like the clueless woman she should be.

Nero, taken aback by his almost slip up, concluded their shopping with heading for the checkout. Whatever she would need, he would tell Dante to get it for her. He tried his damnedest to act completely normal. He observed her, when lining up in the row of people. She stood in front of him and the cart, holding it almost protectively with both hands and gave him a sweet smile.

Nothing out of the ordinary, he breathed out relieved. On the other hand, he could not shake the feeling, of how gears started to grind behind that pretty face of her.

The cashier gave both of them an incredulous once over when she started to scan the goods that could help survive a whole company. After what seemed like a lifetime of waiting and packing, the total flashed in a vicious green before Devon's eyes. Everything else was forgotten by the look on the sheer amount of money they just spend.

Nero briefly glanced at the display, heaving a small sigh and produced several, nastily crumpled up bills from his pockets. He was polite enough to grin sheepishly, before attempting to straighten them. But he quickly gave up on that matter, when the cashier shot him an impatient glare.

"Sorry." Was all he mumbled as he unceremoniously dropped the money onto her awaiting palm. She gave him another reproachful look. "Thank you." She said dryly, but it clearly had the intonation of a Fuck you. She heaved an exaggerated sigh and Devon found that she didn't like her rude behaviour at all. And Nero's embarrassed downcast eyes made it worse.

With the cashier to busy with the bills, Devon nudged Nero's side lightly, so he would look at her. She nodded at the completely charmless woman and rolled her eyes theatrically. Bitch.

A broad grin split Nero's face almost in half. And the incident from before was wiped clean off his former busy mind. The change he received was also carelessly dropped into his pockets once again when he said good bye. Devon did not bother.

Half an hour later, they magically had managed to stuff their goods into the Camaro, which seemed to ache under the sheer weight he was misused to carry. Nero went and put the cart back, while Devon stood on the side of the car motionless. He approached her carefully from behind, thinking something was wrong.

Nero was about to ask, when Devon spun around alerted to his presence by the curt footsteps of him. She grinned wickedly and his gaze wandered from her face down to her hands, were she was clutching a pack of chocolate cookies.

"They won't fit." She explained in a much dramatic matter. Chuckling, Nero rounded the car to get in the drivers seat. "I guess we have to eat them right now." He played along gleefully.

"So it seems." Devon cheerfully remarked and got in as well and ripped the package open, grabbing a cookie with her right and offering him the opened box nonchalantly with her left.

Nero opted for taking one, completely disregarding the car rules once again, and put it in between his teeth, holding it there, until he had swerved around the parking lot and reached the open road.

Steering easily with one hand, he bit a chunk off the cookie and waved it in front of her. "My favorite." He announced matter-of-factly, concluding the line of favorite foods after Dante's and Vergil's preferences. "This is the stuff that makes me weak."

The way he said with his low gentle voice, almost suggestive, forced Devon to make a double take. His innocent grin did not match his voice in the slightest. She wasn't even sure, if he did it on purpose or not. But she highly doubted it. He was clueless as to what effect he could have, she just knew at how he regarded - better – not regarded anyone.

He wasn't aware of all the looks he got back in the market. Or he simply ignored them all together. But Devon had how many woman, and men, had thrown him a longing or shameless stare. And who could blame them. With his unique appearance and his pretty face?

Downright clueless, she thought, with a light giggle.

"What's so funny?" He asked in quiet velvet voice.

"Nothing." Devon thoughtfully chewed on her cookie, evaluating if she just should say what was actually on her mind. Nero's eyes went back forth from the road to her, eyebrows raised in question.

"Well, that was fun." She stated suddenly, and threw him a loopsided grin.

At first, Nero was taken aback by this. They barely knew each other, but the first awkward moments had subsided easy enough for him to start to feel rather comfortable. He felt his face contort into an equal grin despite his usual timidness. He cocked his head slightly, pondering over the remark.

It took him by surprise though, as he nodded and spoke, eyes glued to the road. "It was."


	7. of demons and devils

Chapter 6 - Of Demons and Devils

* * *

When Nero and Devon had arrived home after the excessive shopping trip, Nero was stumped to find the house yet again empty. He could tell Dante wasn't present, his devil bringer dormant upon entering.

After they had stored away the ridiculous amount of goods, which took quite some time, he even went so far as to check on the attic, only to find it officially empty.

By passing his door, he had laughed out loud. There was a note on his door, written on the biggest scrap of the ripped pop tarts package. He had removed it gingerly and confirmed mildly disgusted, Dante used a chewed out gum to make it stick. Nasty.

 _ **smart ass, hope you're smart enough**_

 _ **to get me compensation for my losses**_

 _ **also, you're fired**_

This eased Nero's worries to a manageable degree about the absence of the twins yet again. Still, it all left him fairly curious. And the small voice of reason in his head hadn't gone silent again since Johnny's call.

Gathering all remaining remnants of patience he could find, he had walked back into the kitchen to find Devon still present, tentatively looking at him. He still found her to be slightly pale and opted for preparing dinner, thinking she really could use all the nutrition he could offer. At least someone in this house was considerate enough to do that.

And there they were now. Music was blaring from the jukebox in the living room. It was cheerful and happy, maybe due to the fact, Nero had opened up a bottle of wine, meant for cooking, but poured himself a glass and took a few sips throughout making dinner.

Devon had politely declined his proposition for an additional glass. No, she wanted to go through this soberly and enjoy and take as much with her as possible. His cheeriness was contagious, and Devon sucked it all in like a dying tree longing for warm summer rain, feeding off the positive energy he provided her with, enough to last for both of them.

Nero blamed it on the wine, but he was in an exceptional good mood today. They both danced around each other while performing different task to prepare all the ingredients for dinner. While Nero parried the meat and took care of other slightly advanced things, she resorted to cut up whatever else he needed. And that's where it had happened, because she was too distracted by him.

He did three things at the same time and evenly to top it all. He did not break out in a sweat, nothing. His white hair stuck out in wild angles, because he would always drag his hand through it while figuring out what to do next.

And while he did so, his sweater scrunched up, and she saw how incredibly low those jeans hung on his muscular hips.

A glimpse of perfect cream colored skin revealed itself, stretched taut over a hipbone and the streak of muscles along it. Whatever he did, it kept him in an unflawed shape.

She was lucky she didn't use much force on that carrot. The cut was not deep, but a shriek escaped her nonetheless. Shocked enough for Nero to rush to her side to lay his eyes on the damage done.

She offered him the finger without question and he retrieved a paper towel, wrapping it around her, firmly holding her hand in place in front of her heart.

"Hold it like this. It won't hurt as much if you do."

She knew this saying, to keep your wound close to your heart, but it was strange hearing it from him all the while. He was intriguing her by the minute. How can someone so gorgeous be so innocent and adept at the same time? And still live at home with both equally good-looking man? It was all to good to be true.

"Maybe we have some band aids still somewhere lying around." He started sifting through various drawers, but to no avail.

"I'm fine really." She tried to reassure him, as he was digging through the third drawer shifting the contents around harshly. "It is pretty deep." He reasoned, eyes searching as frantically as his hands.

"Put it in your mouth." The voice stopped both their actions in a heartbeat.. Devon's eyes were saucers as she spun on her heels to the additional input, but her lips inadvertently curled into a smile.

Dante sauntered in with the words falling from his mouth in a quite suggestive matter, earning him a glare from Nero already. Though it was the first for today, so Dante deemed it still alright. It'd take a few more snide remarks to finally piss the boy off. Usually between five and ten.

Devon did like suggested, her eyes fixed on Dante, who's grin widened indecently. He drifted over to her, extending his hand. "Let me see." And with a plop and without waiting for consensus he pulled the finger from between her lips.

There was the tug on her insides again. Just like before in the supermarket, when Nero had touched her. Warm. Fuzzy. Safe.

 _Compassion._

Her mind reeled to a screeching halt, a dull ache in her heart, and then started the faint ringing in her ears.

The bell...

Devon heard it clear as day. The brilliant, heart wrenching sound of a solitary light bell, making the sweetest of mesmerizing sounds she ever heard - evoking a joy of unknown origin she couldn't comprehend.

This was no church bell, which all held the same sadness of an impending doom to her.

It sounded even more clear in her head, the longer his lucent, blue eyes stared into hers.

That clear ring shook her to the core and ignited a fire in her heart. A longing, strong enough, it felt like it could tear her chest apart physically.

It was a longing for trust. For freedom. For a home, she never knew.

A white city under a lucid heaven. A vast blue sky above with idle floating clouds, pristine and fluffy like a painting of days long gone. Tips of golden towers shimmering from afar. Her chest tightened at the sight in front of her inner eye.

 _What was happening?_

Rattling noises, with the clear inclination to disturb, pulled them both from their respective stupor. Devon cleared her throat and claimed her finger back. Dante's intense stare didn't leave her however. Feeling too awkward to endure it any longer, she turned away.

Dante, forgetting his previous intention completely, because the magnitude he had just experienced left his senses tingling. Something had repelled his aura. A grief, pure and deep, as cold as dark, dreary waters under a pale sun. A sadness, which left him speechless for a fraction and his inner devil in stunned silent.

"I already checked it. If you want to make yourself useful, get some band aids." Nero's voice hauled Dante and Devon back into the here and now. He was striving to make it sound casual, but the last bit came out fairly irked.

Dante sneered, naturally not complying in the slightest. But one last look at the cut distracted him one more time.

Was it healing already? To his dismay, Devon securely tugged her arm to her side, making it impossible for him to get another glimpse.

He adjusted his gaze to roam over the diminishing bruise on her face, which for a second seemed unusual, at least by human standards. Or he was just being way to cautious, having Vergil and his foul mood rub off on him from earlier.

He violently shoved all previous thoughts aside and motioned at the bag. "I got you something. Should fit nicely. Go ahead and try them on if you like." Dante said, tucking his sly smile back into place, easing off her initial discomfort. Or so he thought.

"Where'd you get those?" Nero, briefly looking from his spot, assuming rightfully these were women clothes, barely hiding his astonishment Dante had found the time to actually be usefull for a change.

"Lady." Dante replied caustically, as if it wasn't painfully obvious.

"Right." Was all Nero muttered in return. So, if they've had the time to visit the huntress, everything seemed to be in order. Or at least Dante didn't let it show in behalf of Devon. Nero still felt a bit more relaxed, seeing how Dante behaved in his usual mirth. "Vergil?"

Dante simply pointed upwards, indicating that his twin had already resorted back to his room. Nero acknowledged this with a nod. So, the older twin once more had crept past them without having the audacity to say hello. Nero gritted his teeth, his mood turning sour.

When Dante had come in to pull his show on her, Nero felt his temper rise quickly, but somehow after Dante had inspected the cut, something was off. He had learned to read the older devil hunter thoroughly and pick up on every notion, even the tiniest. Something odd definitely had caught his attention.

Nero clearly had a hard time figuring out the whole situation on his own. Also, he needed to concentrate on his dinner and his divided attention did not serve him in the slightest.

Devon, still thrown off the loop and hardly recovering however used the pause that formed, to thank Dante once again.

"Of course, sweetheart." He said, keeping his cheerful expression, but behind the face, thoughts were rattling heavily.

Dante's natural flirtation were something Nero quickly had adapted to, because they mostly were playful and harmless. Yet, knowing Lady well enough, he knew she kind of entertained a habit to show off her curvaceous body and he couldn't help but worry about the nature of the contents of that bag.

Devon joined his side, seemingly nervous, trying to regain his attention shifting back and fro. The older man didn't say anything nor did he look at him.

Best to let it go and ask him later, Nero internally decided, hoping there wasn't a problem arising from this.

Whatever _this_ was.

"You can, uh...start up cutting the fruits." Nero had finished the carrots himself. He smiled slyly before he added, "but be careful this time." Devon, relieved to see Nero's demeanor hadn't changed opposed to Dante's, winked at him, playing her stupidity down. "Yessir." With a numb feeling spreading through her lower arms, nevertheless she took up to her resigned task .

Dante meanwhile wandered over the stove, lifting the lids one after another until Nero came and swatted his greedy hands away. "Ouch." The elder one pouted, but Nero wouldn't have any of that.

"You'll have to wait until it's ready." He shoved him over to the table, motioning for him to sit and keep out of his way. He wouldn't even try asking Dante to lend a hand. He knew exactly he would be turned down the second the question would leave his mouth. No use.

Dante complied and settled down, his eyes slowly tracing Devon's posture and movement. He knew injuries, though his demon blood always mended them on the spot. And he knew how humans had the habit to favor a certain stance, depending on the wound, to ease the pain off.

The way she moved, it occurred to him, wasn't like any of that. But he had smelled the unmissable coppery scent strongly on her yesterday, he had seen the cuts. Hell, he had even disposed of her clothes with all those bloody stains on them.

In addition, even used the dried blood on the wards, making her presence not a violation to the heavily guarded vicinity.

The bruise on her face, had faded impressively and until now he hadn't paid attention and he was sure yesterday it had been still very prominent.

No way in the world would he use force on her, but he needed to know. Needed to see the injuries with his own eyes. If they still were there at all.

Dante rested his chin in his right hand, tapping his lips in deep thought with his right pinky finger.

But the woman felt his eyes staring, scrutinizing her. Also the strange numbness to her arms was more than unsettling and added to the difficulty of the weight of the situation she currently found herself exposed to.

"I'll be right back." She announced, letting her knife sink and rest next to the chopped fruits.

"Where are you going?" Poor, oblivious Nero.

"I have to pee." She replied snidely on her way out. Devon couldn't refrain from rolling her eyes as she left two equally puzzled men in her wake.

She quickly went up the stairs and into the bathroom. Her fingers deftly started tearing away the bandages, before she even got there. Closing the door behind her, they fell onto the ground in a messy heap of unsoiled white material.

Her breath staggered upon seeing the scars that had formed, instead of cuts.

She was aware ever since of the slight advanced healing condition she possessed. But not like that. Not at all.

The ringing in her head was about to drive her crazy. The moment the bandages sailed to the cold tiled floor, it started anew and wouldn't stop.

Wide eyes stared ahead, struggling to grasp the meaning behind the horrifying occurrence, spiraling her function to form a solid string of thoughts into a mad flurry of sounds foreign to her existence.

This city had no white towers. Nor golden roofs. Nor a bright blue sky. Ever.

Hazy eyes zoomed in and out of focus, a voice echoed through the dim halls of her mind, squeezing everything out until only the resonating voice remained, bouncing off the cold, lackluster walls of her being over and over again.

 _Pesh._

 _Peshgaldaramesh._

* * *

"This city is more wretched, than my memory tells me. Though I remember the rain. It reeks of oppression."

War held his head up, face turned towards the dark sky, that slowly turned from dusk to night, rain pelting down on his heated skin from their previous journey through the vast desert, surrounding this city like a sea of sand.

He didn't know, what Death was talking about, to him it felt like normal water. A worried expression on his face as he lowered his head to give Death a brief once over, the continuous dark mood making him feel at fault more and more of the last day.

"You'd think it a mistake?" He finally inquired slowly, referring to eliminating the Charred Council.

Death inclined his head and scoffed, mildly amused. "I think, you should know me better, brother, than to ask me this."

So, what was it then, that had his oldest sibling in a such a gloomy haze? Was it really the foul weather, or the fact they had to travel to earth? Death seemed to have done an awful lot of thinking the longer they went, where War would simply trust his instincts and follow them to wherever they would lead.

"Then what troubles you?"

"Have I made the right choice?" Death eventually relented to share with War his sorrows, his doubts. "What if we don't find the answers we seek here?" Meaning, they 'd probably had to search far and wide for the hunters and their mentor.

But before he could voice out his answer, a yellow flash across the sky and far to close to earth to be a natural occurrence, flickered across both their faces. The bright bolt without thunder illuminated them and their surrounding for a second, casting sharp and eerie shadows all around.

Death pulled his scythes from their holsters. Blunted, yes, but still sufficient enough to damage whatever was fighting up ahead. Jumping diagonally to the wall he ran along it with War following in his wake, heavy boots thundering across the street below.

The pale rider took advantage of his elevated positioned, keen eyes scouting ahead, deploying Dust to do the same with a nod of his head.

He bounced of the wall with a twirl midair to land on the roof opposite of him, sprinting forward, scythes at the ready.

The crackling noise became evident as he closed in and the smell of burnt flesh hung in the air. Lightning bounced of the walls below, wildly searching it's targets. And then he saw it. Feathers were flying around in a whirlwind, sprinkled with the blood of angles.

He gritted his teeth and let out a loud snarl. The remaining angels did not see him coming, nor did the woman, whose hands were sparkling with lightning. He couldn't recognize neither of the parties involved in the fight. Nameless opponents are the easiest.

The blonde had a huge sword on her back. Intriguing, to say the least.

War turned the last corner, not as fast as his brother and halted at the sight in front of him. Angels on earth, fighting a solitary demon women. That spelled trouble all the way.

Chaoseater quickly descended on both angel and demon. He'd leave none of those creatures standing, neither belonging here.

The sword was drawn and clashed with War's blade, deflecting the heavy, brute downward swing merely. The woman leaped back, severing the wings from the last angel in the process. It fell to the ground, becoming Chaoseater's prey easily as War surged forward.

Gunshots rang out, as Death lunged forward, he dodged them with effortless elegance and fast movements. He heard her curse under her breath, unleashing the full potential of those guns at him, every single shot missing it's target as he propelled from the ground and flew past her his scythes lashing out. Yet again, hi sweapons were deflected with the demon blade. She was fast, that he had to credit.

War lunged at her, the dead angels forgotten, and Death came up from the other side of hte alley. She was trapped between the riders, aiming one gun at each of them.

But Death could only chuckle darkly. It was wasted ammo, that couldn't kill him, nor harm him enough to remotely slow him down.

The female channeled her demonic energy, hands and wrist glowing in a sick yellow, ready to empower the bullets in the chambers of her custom made guns.

One black, one white.

Upon pouncing in on her leather clad figure, Death came to an abrupt halt, catching himself mid air, spinning over her head and landing next to his brother, who started another attack.

She dodged War's heavy swing, landing few feet ahead of them, blond hair in a flurry. Straightening his posture and lowering his weapons, Death gave War a look, which told him to stop his enraged onslaught.

His gaze shifted towards the female, which was panting heavily. Both guns, still charged, aimed at his face only.

"Tell me, before I cut that head clean of your shoulders, who did you steal these guns from?"

Ebony and Ivor, he remembered.

He knew them, of course. The young, white haired hunter had made good use of them. And a slight dread befell Death, seeing them not in his hands, but that of a demon.

The answer were bullets whizzing past him, as he jerked aside to evade the charged shots expertly.

Trish didn't doubt him in the slightest. And too bad, she was already weary from the attack of those feathered goons. They had come out of nowhere, very rudely vowing to eradicate her pungent being off the face of the earth.

All she wanted was to go home and enjoy a bath and certainly not battling angles and, well whoever these two brute giants were. But she sensed them to be strong. Stronger than her. Dangerous beings, neither human nor devil. And it was also safe to say, they were not of the angel race either.

The question though was what truly confused her. Why did the black haired guy know the guns, replicas of Dante's trademark weapons since his youth? And why was he so pissed off about it?

There was only one logical conclusion. And it was either tell him or flee. Somehow, she doubted the fleeing part would turn into success. The one with the scythes was fast, even in her books. The other one maybe not so, but one hit from that enormous blade, and she'd be done for, no two ways about it.

"You know Dante?" It was her best option. That or die right here.

"Who are you?" Death asked back, full of distrust still, even at hearing the name coming so familiar of her lips. "Answer me. You can't flee, nor can you fight any longer."

Trish scoffed at his deceptive remark. She could still try to port, though her strength would leave her the second she'd do so. She hoped Dante would be there to catch her fall. She closed her eyes, afraid. like sh enever had been in a long time.

Death surged forward like a coiled spiral, hoping War would be fast enough to catch on and spring forward with him.

Trish doubted she would make it, seeing him and his companion, as both connected with her, getting sucked into the portal she had created.

* * *

Devon didn't know how long it look for her to get a hold of herself, while trying to wrap herself up with shaky hands. The clock in the bathroom though told her, only minutes had passed, but it felt like ages to her. Afraid, that someone might come to check on her, she struggled to reapply the bandages, which turned messier by the second.

She cursed at this, at herself and the overall surrealism of the whole situation. When did it alter from pleasant to disasterous this quickly? She almost felt like running. Away from the everything. But she surely couldn't escape the experience her mind had just gone through.

She solely blamed it on them though. If she was going crazy, for whatever reason, it was their fault. Not hers. There was nothing wrong with her. Not until she had met them. It resulted in the simplest of solutions. Get away from here.

Still not satisfied with how the wrappings looked, she opted for getting a sweater out of Nero's room and pull it down over both arms. That should at least buy her some time and restrict curious eyes from examination. She leaned against the door with one ear, trying to decipher any noise of an unwanted presence outside. It was as quiet as a grave.

Devon carefully opened the door only a crack, still anticipating someone. But no one was in sight. So, tiptoeing along the creaky, traitorous floorboards she was relieved to arrive at the young mans room without alerting anyone.

Devon located the sweater, the black one gifted from Nero, on the floor and slipped it on. She inspected her arms and hands, welcoming the oversized garment as it covered her completely down to tips of her fingers.

She breathed in and out a few times, begging her heart to stop beating so rapidly. Apparently no one even seemed to be bothered by her absence, at least not nearly enough to come looking. Just act normal. She could still ponder over the state of her mind later. For now, it would be crucial to put on the happy face. And the innocent act.

If she'd bail, who knows what might happen. And quite frankly, she really didn't want to leave the house, which was still a much safer confinement than anywhere else outside.

So, with renewed vigor she left Nero's room, bearing quite the confidence.

But it all only lasted until she reached the stairs.

"What are you doing?" The one person she didn't even think of.

Devon turned around, sheepish smile and all, but Vergil couldn't be fooled so easily. The moment she had entered the bath, he had heard her heart beating in and out of time. He had felt the fear. The distress. The desperation.

It was not something to associate with her initial demeanor and he curiously had shifted all his attention towards that small frightened soul slouching in the middle of the bathroom.

"I just borrowed a sweater from Nero." Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

And with a pang of guilt, Devon realized the first words spoken to Dante's austere twin were a blatant lie.

"And what did you do before that." Like a lion closing in on his prey, he pranced along the hallway, watching Devon's eyes widen with every step taken further. His eyes honing in on her with an intimidating stare, that easily belittled her whole existence into nothingness and glued her to the spot.

Devon's mouth went dry, because never had she felt something so intense, only afflicted by the simple stare of one person. In this very moment, that let her question her entire being, she was afraid of him.

Truly afraid.

He extended one hand and Devon could only watch in slow motion, as if she was a mere bystander and not the inhabitant of this body anymore. Although, when those ice cold fingers encircled her way too thin wrist, everything seemed to speed up again.

Vergil did not really know what exactly he was looking for, but scrunching that arm of the sweater up, he discovered the more than inadequate attempt of concealing her wounds. Or what apparently was left of them.

Devon jerked to life as he gripped the ending, in order to pull the bandage off. She realized it only a fraction to late, and the bandage entangled itself, as loose at it unfortunately was. His grip only tightened with her movement to the point where it hurt and she swore she could hear her joint ache under his harsh mistreat.

Vergil scoffed at the scars, he had unveiled without much of a protest form her quivering form. And he cursed Dante and his larger than life urge to help the oh so helpless.

Devon firmly planted both feet onto ground, finding her determination to wedge herself free. She clearly could see the hostility and she felt it seep out from every pore of his grim presence.

He only regarded her with a single raised brow, asking her silently what she was about to achieve from this nonsense. She had bent back so much, threatening to fall down the stairs helplessly if he would opt to just let go of her.

"Let go of me." It came as a mere croaky whisper, overall lacking determination to make him even consider it by a small fraction.

In the kitchen though, Nero's devil bringer flared up violently, breaking Dante's train of thought altogether.

"What the hell?" Nero muttered, feeling and seeing his demon arm alarming him that something clearly was off.

Dante's gaze shot up, a warning in them that made Nero flinch visibly.

Vergil.

Both simultaneously bolted for the door, Dante slipping out, before Nero could shove him aside to be the first.

It certainly wasn't a sight they had anticipated.

Vergil had let loose of his grip on her wrist, but had hauled her back enough to not fall and risking a serious injury before.

Devon had crawled down the stairs on all fours, not trusting her wobbly legs to carry her safely down and currently slouched at the bottom of the staircase while Vergil looked down on her with indifferent eyes that turned to the newest arrivals in the room.

"Vergil, calm yourself." Dante said through clenched teeth and it was the first time, Devon witnessed how alike they both really looked, staring at each other with hardened faces and chilling eyes. The gentle and cordial tone in Dante's voice had completely disappeared.

The addressed twin descended down the stairs in a slow gait towards the female. Devon crawled backwards, with the intent to get as much space between them as possible. Another set of words spoken by Dante let her head turn around. "Nero. You too."

But the younger hunter gave him an intense, defying stare, making his way straight for the frightened figure on the floor.

Nero's lip tightened into a thin line and he lowered his gaze, which brief flitted over Devon's frightened feature then settled his scowl on Dante's non committal smile. "Let's all stay calm and cool. Maybe this isn't what it looks like."

"What does it look like?" Devon piped up with an icredolous stare, seeing Nero coming towards her. At first she was relieved, but not until she saw that shimmering light from right under the fabric of his hoodie. And the leather glove seemed more suspicious than ever before.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Kid." Dante started out, but Vergil's impatience was wearing very thin. "She's no human." He all but spat at them, while his eyes bore into hers."The wounds have healed in a mere day." Dante saw his suspicions confirmed at the wordsof his brother.

Nero wanted to extend his hand to her, but his mind couldn't follow a coherent string of thoughts upon the twins revelations. His head whipped around to Vergil, who's demonic presence just seemed to have tripled. It hit him hard. He felt it tug at his insides, could almost see it swiveling and spiking around him. He could taste it on his tongue. His own devil inside him became agitated about the massive force, that whirled around them like an invisible hurricane.

"What are you talking about?" Nero's voice had dropped slightly and gained an aggressive throaty grain. His devil gnawed at him from under his skin. Don't submit, it burbled. _I dare you to._

"Get away from her." Cold blue unrelenting eyes challenged him to disobey, for steep was the price to pay. Vergil had turned around and fixed him with a stare that was unmatched in authority. The authority of an older devil.

Devon could just watch. Her body was unwilling to move, she was frozen on the spot. She didn't know what the hell was going on. With either of them.

And at least with herself.

She tried to stand up, looking at Nero for any indication of help, but the faint light his right arm emitted, seeping through the layer of clothes let her shrink away. Her stomach lurched in utter fear. What was going on?

"Like hell I will." Nero growled lowly and bared his teeth, making it clear for the older twin, that he was dead serious.

Vergil didn't reply. He went to adjust his stance, letting his right foot slide a few inches away from the other. Yamato materialized in his hand, resting against the side of his leg, though his thump touched the hand guard, ready to push.

Devon did a doubletake. The sword just appeared out of nowhere. It all fell painfully into place. If the situation hadn't been so serious, she would have laughed at her stupidity. How oblivious of her. Of course, he wasn't human, neither was Nero. Nor Dante, even if never showing anything to suspect, of course as well.

Vergil's power bleed away fiercely. To Nero, it felt as if someone just had dropped a whole bucket of ice-cold glue over his head, that slowly slid down over his frame and chilled him to the bone.

All Nero could do at this point was to not let it show just how much it began to unsettle him. And he could feel Devon next to him. She had started sweating, and he could only guess what it felt like to her, if he himself could yet stand it only so much.

Her torso was heaving under unsteady and ragged breaths. And he smelled her fear out of every pore of her skin. She was terrified.

That did it. He stepped into Vergil's direct line of sight, right in front of the female.

Devon felt her heart pound at his action, but still the oppressive feeling was more than she could take. The feeling of her own weight pushing down on her with a gravitational pull that really hurt on so many levels and didn't dissolve. Her eyes tried to hone in on Nero's shape, but were out of focus, because it seemed like everything was shaking.

Dante's eyes did not fail to notice her reaction. And he also noticed Vergil's cold wrath that had settled onto Nero. He slowly focused his own aura to engulf the room and to let Vergil know to tone it the fuck down. Nero, the stubborn fool he was, wouldn't budge and Dante knew too well this could end in a bloody onslaught. Vergil was to fast for all them. And neither Nero nor Devon would heal quick enough to not be in serious trouble.

Dante really didn't want to use his power over Vergil to reduce him to what he truly was. A devil arm on the leash of a master. Namely himself. And it would be overly painful, to have his brother defeated solely by his command. It would only take a flick of fingers to let Vergil disappear and lock him up inside Yamato to calm down. No, it would be the very last resort.

So, he took a step towards them, palms up, and tried to soothe all of them. "We just wanna talk, is all. Keep it cool, guys, keep it cool. There's no need to go all out for trigger mode."

Nero felt Dante's aura reaching out to them. Probably around Vergil too, while he spoke. It quickly grazed his body and he felt the fierce warmth of it. It didn't burn nor stitch like Vergil's. It was a calm burning that reached inside him and smoothed out his murderous thoughts.

Nero did a wondrous double take at Dante. Had it always felt like this? He actually couldn't remember. The times they fought, he had seemed to never let it show. It was not unpleasant. The red hot feeling cascaed down his body and bleed into his soul. Did Dante do this purpose? Did it always feel like this?

It evidently weighed as much Vergil's aura. He could feel the pull as well. But really it was so much different than his own and that of the blue twin. It was strength and kindness. It didn't taste of snow and sulfuric ashes, but of slow a burning wood fire and charcoal.

Nero felt calmer this instant and Vergil relaxed back into his usual stiff stance. His grip on Yamato softened. Dante heaved a sigh. "Let's just sit down and have chat." He gave each one in the room a solemn look.

Devon felt the pressure resolve as quickly as it had come. Her head became light and her frantic heartbeat was very much out of rhythm, but she felt already relieved. Her stomach though told her how upset it really was about this unnatural display of whatever it was.

A telltale gathering of saliva in the back of her mouth told her just how much her stomach was displeased. She had no time to react, other than to lean forward.

Nero bent down on one knee to tend to the ungraceful heap of upset woman. Dry heaves were coming from her mouth and she groaned. Without further warning, her stomach turned and the contents splattered abruptly across the wooden floor.

Fantastic. She just barfed in their shop. How embarrassing.

"It's only a natrual reaction." Dante said with a loop-sided grin but Nero shot him a look that could kill. "It's your fucking fault."

Vergil just gave a disgusted noise and opted for leaving the scene and went up the stairs. After he had witnessed how Devon had reacted he concluded that there was no actual threat from her, whatever she was. Dante would find out eventually. He had no notion to endure any of this longer than necessary. His patience had been tested enough for today.

"Are you gonna get some towels?" Dante called after his brother, slightly amused. Of course that bastard wouldn't, but he couldn't resist. The sound of a door being slammed shut was all he received for an answer. "Is that a no?"

But he quickly made his way to the kitchen to get paper towels himself and other things to clean the mess. He felt sorry. Too much of awesome devil-ness wasn't apparently so good on her weak stomach.

Nero tried to help Devon up as she wiped her mouth with the back of her arm. "What did just happen?." She mumbled. Nero supported her wobbly frame with his devil bringer and pointed his other hand at Dante's re-emerging person.

Devon immediately stiffened under the touch, because his talons had bored themselves into her right side.

There was only thought left in her brain. To get out of here as quickly as possible. They were not normal. None of them. She knew why Dante had intrigued her from their first meeting on. It must have been his supernatural aura all the way. Well, apparently a trait his ass of a brother shared, though in a much more menacing way.

At last, there was Nero and his constant cover on his right arm. And she'd be damned, if it hadn't started glowing and still did so yet, when she looked close enough.

"What the hell, old man." Nero demanded clarification.

"I'll explain to you in a second." He said and pushed the paper towels into Nero's open hand. "But first..." His eyes turned towards her mess.

"I'll clean that up myself. Thank you very much." She said with a pout and a defying edge in her voice. "Just leave me alone you all."

"No can do." Nero announced, tossing Dante a glare he could have stolen right off Vergil, informing Dante he had enough. He then turned to Devon who slowly had started walking towards the kitchen.

"And where do you think you're going?" He asked sharply. "Sit down already." He huffed, overwhelmed by the whole situation and it's utter stupidity.

"Okay." She mumbled quietly in defeat.

"What do you need?" He asked in much calmer tone. He was so unnerved, he had to keep his lousy temper in check and not snap at her.

"Water please." She all but croaked.

Nero nodded and left to get it for her.

"Uh, that's so gross." Dante whined after a few moments of silence as he went on with cleaning.

"Shut up." Nero yelled from the kitchen and Dante winced. He gathered all the used paper towels into his arms and went into kitchen and disposed of the towels in the trash, while Nero passed him and brought Devon a glass of water. Dante waited for him to return.

He watched him carefully, as Nero came back to fiddle with the coffee maker. He was desolate and needed to occupy his hands or they would want to rip something apart. Or someone.

Dante saw the fidgety anger boiling in Nero's guts, threatening to run wild. "Good call. I could use one as well." He pointed at the machine

The younger one didn't spare him a single glance, but slammed both his hands flat on the counter. "Dammit, Dante." He balled his fist, slamming them down once more, trying to fight the anger twisting his guts. "He was about to attack me." Nero snarled accusingly.

"Actually, he was not. He couldn't. I wouldn't let him." Dante crossed his arms an dleane dagaisnt the fridge.

"He's borderline crazy sometimes." Nero huffed.

"He wanted to protect you. He told you to step aside." Dante reasoned halfheartedly, while Nero's were glued to the coffee runnig through the filter and dripping into the glass pitcher with a steady and soothing rhythm.

"If that's supposed to make feel better, it doesn't." Nero3 snapped, rubbing his face before regarding his opposite again.

"Do you honestly think I wouldn't have interfered? But I wanted him to ease off by himself, not make him. He's my brother. I know how to handle him, without using the link. He can be a pain in the ass, but I assure you, he means well." He reached over and gave Nero a squeeze to the shoulder.

"If something like this happens again..."

"Kid, trust me. Nothing's going to happen. If she would be a threat, then it would have shown back in there."

Nero released a slow long exhale. "So what exactly is going on and why did Vergil find it out, out of nowhere. And you certainly aren't surprised either. Am I the only one who didn't realize? And more importantly yet. None of you bothered to fill me in. Huh?!" He ruffled his hair into a mess, then rubbed over his face once more. Using the actions and the pregant pause of Dante to ease up.

"But she never said anything. Or did anything. How's that even possible. I mean..." He lifted his again dormant Devil Bringer. "I can sense you all the time. It just reacts to whatever demonic presence I come across." With Devon it never became incandescent ever. Not even close.

Dante simply shrugged. "That's what got me thinking. Maybe we should investigate a bit more. For now it's seems she's harmless. But we gotta look what's going to happen. I have been dealing with set up traps like that before. It won't hurt to be careful around her. She even could be a mind controlled weapon, for all we know." Nero could only look at Dante like he didn't believe him to be serious.

"That's ridiculous...Didn't you see how terrified she was?" He stood in front of the older devil his arms pressing into his hips. Sassy.

"Just saying, kid. Just saying. We can't rule out any possibility."

Dante's feet shuffled as he pushed himself off the fridge and went to get two mugs for the coffee and poured the dark liquid in. Nero didn't like his coffee with anything but coffee, but he generously dropped four cubes of sugar into his mug. They returned into the living room.

"And she's gone." Dante remarked. They set the drinks on the table in front of the couch. Nero looked up the staircase and Dante gazed to the front door.

"Oh this is just great!" Nero groaned at him agitated.

"Verge?" Dante yelled and the twin was at the top of the stairs yet again. DAnte concentrated to find the human hear tpounding, but it wasn't there.

"What?" Vergil asked, ascended the staircase eyeing both Nero and his brother warily.

"Is she up there?" To Dante's question, he shook his no.

Nero just sighed and went to open the front door. "Well, how far could she get...?"

"Did she ran away?" Vergil asked half amused.

Nero threw him a scorching look over his shoulder, walking briskly to the front door. "If anything happens, I swear, this is on your head." He spat and violently slammed the door shut behind him with his devil bringer, shattering both glass windows in the process.

"Hey! That was my door!" Dante yelled after him angrily, before he turned to his brother huffing at Nero's useless antics. "You? Calm yet?"

Vergil only nodded, summoning Yamato once again. There was a silent consent between them, Vergil knowing he had gone overboard, but Dante already forgiving him. "Go." He said, knowing he was the one who had to stay behind to wait if she came back to them and Vergil following Nero, to make sure the Kid wouldn't get into trouble with his foul temper on the loose.


	8. compassion

Chapter 7 - Compassion

* * *

Dante watched Vergil disappear into the night, secretly trailing after Nero.

He pouted at the wrecked double door and the shards of glass everywhere. A curious puzzle of glittering pieces, which started to tinkle softly to the faintest of tremors running through the house.

He knew the feeling and congratulated Trish of not finding a better time to return home than this jumbled up mess of perfect day fucked up beyond repair.

Dante took a few casual steps aside, just in time to evade the crackling bolts of lightning.

His bitter sarcastic mood had only lifted for a second, because of Trish and finally someone as sane as him in the house.

But the moment the portal opened, he knew something was alarmingly off, for Trish came tumbling through, limb and seemingly lifeless. Dante dashed across the wooden floor, skidding to a halt, boots screeching across the wooden floor, as he caught her safely in his arms and tugged her to his chest.

This just kept going better and better. Something was coming through after Trish and that now was deeply disturbing.

He suddenly knew, why she was in this state. Trish's abiltiy wasn't mean to be used by this many and certainly not this huge, people. The two figures almost crashed into his beloved desk and missed it by a hair.

Both silently straightened, while looking around, and then both their eyes gave him a shocked expression, before they expectantly waited for the hunter reaction. And one of them, with his huge sword on his back turned around and managed to bump against his desk after all, shoving it a few inches across the floor.

Wincing for a second at this, Dante walked over the the couch and gently placed Trish upon it, checking her breathing and pulse, ignoring the riders for now. "Trish." He called softly, caressing her cheek with his finger.

"She's just exhausted, hunter. Nothing to worry about." Death told him in a nonchalant voice, and definitely not like someone who had crashed into his household just a few seconds ago.

Dante scoffed at them, but knew he was right. She'd come to eventually, pissed off for sure, but as long as she was alright, he couldn't care less. He gave her lower arm a squeeze, before he turned and cocked his head.

"Two riders and no horse?" He gestured around with arms wide open. "I'd say that's not much of an entrance. Or is it a joke I don't know yet? Two riders walk into a bar-"

"Certainly hasn't lost his wit." Death remarked sardonically, interrupting him rudely.

"Lost his courtesy, though." War admonished sternly.

Dante outright laughed, shrugging. "Not that I ever had it." And secretly he could not wait for them to meet Nero and his potty mouth. Compared to him, Dante was a harmless school boy.

They viewed each other for moment, half assessing, half approving, until they broke out into equal wide grins. "Hey big guy." Dante spoke first, walking over to greet War, rapping against his chest plate with the back of his hand. At Death he simply nodded, knowing him to be just as moody as Vergil and maybe to keep his distance for now. "Death."

"Hunter." The rider dipped his head as proper greeting. It's what you did with brothers-in-arms, for that was, what Dante truly had been so many years ago. He had changed in appearance, but not in terms regarding his ever chipper mood, no matter how dark times were.

And these were dark times once more, they just didn't know yet. And it was now their responsibility to explain things in a very thorough manner, at least thorough enough so the hunter would show understanding. Encountering the angels already on the loose, though fortunately low in number ,was a massive situation in development.

Yet, he could only marvel at the apparent luck, that straightforwardly had let them meet the one person out there, who could have brought them to Dante in a literate flash. His eyes flitted across the woman, a full fledged demon she was, but his first assumption had been way off. Dante seemed to harbor a great care for her, and Death was curious to find out the story behind it. Well, Dante had a knack for finding people to trust, whichever race they belonged to.

"Well, I think we have a long night of catching up to do." Dante said. He walked over to his desk, shoving it back into the right spot. He plopped down on his swivel chair, placing his feet on the wooden surface.

"It is as you think." Death replied solemnly, watching amused, how Dante slouched into a comfortable position.

"Well, make yourselves at home."

War, highly doubting any of the furniture to be stable enough to carry his weight, opted to sit down on the floor where he was, placing Chaoseater next to him.

Pragmatic as ever.

He pushed his hood back, giving Dante a solid view of the red glowing marks on his forehead, emitting faint light like fiery cracks. Dante always had liked the earnest rider in red. They had clicked in a pretty smooth way, he had found astounding giving his hard demeanor. Under that shell of commitment and restraint, a blazing heat raged, ready to run wild, if honor or loyalty were tested.

Certainly not one for unduly histrionics, Dante received a dismal look, before the pale rider dropped the unadorned truth on his head. "The Charred Council is no more."

Dante closed his eyes. A big silence followed.

He knew enough to be aware of what an irreversible chaos the riders had unleashed. His guts twisted. He couldn't deny nor fight the dread that crept up on him like shadow. An unknown stealthy beast and it turned his usually heated blood to run cold.

On the other hand, Death was not one to rush into anyhting and handle things on a irrational basis. Or so he hoped.

Many questions started to pour in, messing his head up. What of Earth? What of Hell? What of Heaven? They all must be certainly out for the riders.

He settled for the one closest to him. "What do you expect of me? This is your responsibility."

"We seek aid. Yours. And the one they call Danzig in this realm. He disappeared some time ago and we haven't been able to contact him."

Dante's feet left the desk to be planted firmly back on the ground as he perked up. "Danzig?" He asked incredulous, ignoring the fact they just had asked for his help. "What could you possibly want from him?"

Death sighed. "The vault. It needs to me moved. We know, he is the one capable enough to do so. Earth as of now, is the only place, the Tree of Life doesn't have a direct connection to. All other realms are out of question."

The hunter scoffed. "Haven't got a clue where he is. Sorry." He stood up, wandering over to the bar, both riders watching him curiously.

Dante grabbed the nearest bottle of the shelve and a glass. For a second he regarded both back to back, pursing his lips. The glass went back to the shelf and he uncapped the bottle and unceremoniously poured half it's contents down his dry throat.

Both riders exchanged another amused look, hoping Strife and Fury were fairing better with their respective individual, if they had found him to begin with.

Dante shook his head like a wet dog would. "Better." He kept the bottle, as he wandered back to his desk, throwing both riders a wry smile. "So, what about that precious balance of yours? Wasn't the Council in charge of that?"

"They betrayed the us. My brother. The corruption, that had spread in the universe had taken effect eventually. We couldn't stand by, idly watching, any longer. Now, we must see to the balance."

Dante sneered, greeting the notion that all of it was big gigantic mess. "Just the two of you?"

"Our brother and sister are on another quest. We must address the problems by it's roots. They intend to find us another companion, who could be able to turn the tables before severe damage can be done to this world." Death said.

"Oh, for fucks sake. Stop speaking in riddles." Dante huffed, for once feeling his patience failing him.

The oldest rider stared as impassive as ever. "The Heavens are safe I deem, with Azrael still in charge. He's not a friend of mine, but he will do anything to prevent the White City from acting rashly, because he still follows the now broken rules. But there are those still full of hatred towards humanity. They know how mankind has taken it's fall and is spiralling down, even with the origin of corruption defeated, it still has affected your race."

War nodded, apparently in thought, before he lifted his gaze towards Dante. "We've come across a small unit of angels earlier, fighting with your companion. I doubt they were here on higher orders. But the whispers got louder, even with the Council intact, that mankind has forsaken it's right for existence. The angels believe, as the Creator had turned his eyes, that you were doomed." War said, trying to explain the danger they supposedly were already. Dante just waved is hand dismissively at the enlightenment that apparently angels did not harbor much love for the human kind.

"As I walked across the boundaries of your city, I saw." Death said, motioning at the door to the outside world. "I cannot argue with their suspicions. The grounds are festering with demons. But with your brother summoning that wretched tower of fear, things turned worse. But I know, not all are alike. Even if the Council wanted to make us believe, not all is black and white. You are the most adequate proof, that this logic is faulty."

"So what? Want me to do a petition and drop it on Heaven's doorstep?"

Death groaned at Dante, eyes flashing dangerously. "The time for petty jokes is over, hunter. There are many things shifting in this world and you better stay true to your nature you so easily flaunt. Hell won't stay away from this either. They have their eyes set on the White City. And after that, who will come next?" His voice became a threat, a dark menace, and it wasn't lost even on the half blood. It stirred his insides.

"You need to take up arms at some point. Now, or right before the end." War told him, grim voice matching his brothers.

Death waited for their words to take effect, wandering from one side of the room to the other and crossing his arms wile he did so. He cast his eyes down, the bright orange growing dim. "The power of the Council lies not dead, but dormant. But we were severed from it, the moment we walked against them."

"I see." It slowly dawned on Dante, what they tried to achieve. They wanted to restore the Council, if that was even possible.

"The balance must be renewed, but with the ones we can trust." Death confirmed the hunters thoughts.

"So, that's the your overall plan? To set up a new Council, while trying to keep Heaven and Hell at bay?" Dante let out a humorless laugh. How could they believe to accomplish this? Yet, if what they said was true, about the corrupted entity, he knew he would have done the same, without so much but batting an eye.

And a future looking so grim and dark, he wouldn't want for any of them. He had to think about the others. And it all veered into one simple truth. It was the right thing to do.

Dante let out a long exaggerated sigh. "Well, I guess, I can offer you my help, but under the circumstances you don't hold back any information, because I still have that notion, you are not telling me everything."

"Granted. But only when we find Danzig, for it is not for me to tell, just yet." Death replied, a shadow of a smile crossing his face, one of hope War hadn't seen on his brother in a long time.

* * *

The moment Nero ran out of the house, he ran up the street, but stilled right on the first crossroad. He was presented with to many directions she could have run off too. Also, his sensing of humans wasn't as good as Dante's or Vergil's. And with other people around, he found himself incapable to decipher all the scents and not mingle them together in his brain.

And sensing demons was so different from sensing humans. He wasn't adapted to it at all. Though with Vergil's training he had made progress all the while, but not sufficiently enough for his liking. Though he couldn't blame the twin alone for that.

But a she stood there head turning from left to right and back, all he could do was guess. Immediately he felt stupid, but going back in wasn't an option. He'd do this of his own. He didn't need any of them. He turned left, just trusting the feeling in his guts and broke out into a sprint, just hoping his instincts wouldn't fail him.

He knew, she would not go the direction of the tower, that he was the only thing he was certain. But still, she could be anywhere, the streets were long, the many alleyways like a spiders web and he couldn't possibly think to be able search any nook and crevice.

Not to mention he was still seething and I didn't help with his overall condition and the task of finding a straw in a stack of needles.

A strange feeling had settled itself somewhere in the back of his mind since he left the shop. And it wasn't just because of what had happened. It was a deeper and much darker thing. And it kept pulling and eating away on his insides. A premonition of some sort, pure instinct, and he had learned to trust the sixth sense his demon blood provided him with.

And if he could feel this, he was certain the twins could do as well.

It evidently had Vergil on edge enough, to overreact in a for him irrational matter. And he was sure, he had triggered at one point, if it hadn't been for his brother. The other thing was that kept gnawing on Nero, he couldn't have defended himself even if he had wanted to.

On contrary to Dante's belief before at home, Nero couldn't trigger any more.

But since both of them were so dead set on pampering him like a child, with mission only assigned to him, that never got past your stray minor demon, the need to had never occurred. He could still crush those things effortlessly with the devil bringer. But the power to trigger had left him, since Danzig had separated him from Vergil and Yamato.

He had become painfully aware that all his power had originated from the hybrid he had harbored and his essence, that was used to make him the way he was. An incomplete being. Neither human, nor devil. Something less in between. A freak accident with a weird arm.

The manifestation of that blue devil's shell, he had been able to call forth and engulf him securely, was nothing but a borrowed feature, which had returned to it's true owner, upon being ripped away from his body. Or so Nero believed. Though, when Vergil had been close to unleash his powers, he thought had clearly heard that inner voice. Whispering. Snarling. Or it had been just his inner monologue. Who could truly say where human ended and demon started.

And the reason he kept this from the twins, was that from his initial conviction to be a tainted being, somewhere in between, he resorted to appreciate it for what it was. For what he could turn it into and use it for. The shame and heavy guilt about the deaths of the two people, he had once cherished more than anything, had only determined and hardened him in his decision after all. And he didn't want the twins to see anything less in him because his powers had failed him.

Or would fail them, until they realized they wouldn't even need him anymore.

He wanted to stand up for others, who couldn't. For the innocent, that shouldn't be made to suffer or die. Just like Dante, who had gone from a maniac, who shot His Holiness in the face, to the closest of people he knew to trust in. And he wanted the twins to believe in him as well, but was so afraid to tell them the truth.

Everyone should have someone to and vice versa. He knew what it felt like, to be forsaken and looked down on. He knew, Dante could be the same for Devon as for had been for him. A chance to change things. She had no one, and he would make sure to change that.

When they didn't do anything, who would?

* * *

Devon had felt slip the ground from beneath her feet, crumbling away rapidly. An iron grip on that last thread of the fabric of her sanity pulled and it came undone. She slipped out of the door and the moment her feet hit the cobble stone, she ran.

She slipped into the shadows of the alley next to their home, leaving the safe streetlights behind and followed the maze of dark passages, in between the tall buildings. She didn't know if they would trail her, but she would make sure to make it as hard as possible. Turning right, left, forward, another turn left.

She stopped for a second, no sense of direction and looked up, but between the cramped buildings she couldn't see the dark silhouette of the tower she wanted to avoid. Fighting the panic, that held her heart and mind hostage yet, too a moment to catch her breath.

Her eyes wandered left and right, making sure she was alone as she leaned against the cold brick wall behind her. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see the alley she was in. And only now she noticed that the constant rain had changed to misty drizzle, chilling her even more to the bone than the usual heavy raindrops. It crept in to every pore, but focusing on the cold helped her spinning thoughts to freeze with over with it.

It had all been to good to be true.

Devon's knees buckled under her, forcing her to slide down, back against the wall. She rested her elbows on her knees and wiped the rain off her face. In this moment she hated herself for even remotely thinking to go back.

She should just forget about it. And what the hell did they even mean, she wasn't human? Of course she was. And never had been anything else. She could go hungry. She felt pain. She bled. There wasn't anything different about her. And neither did she glow, nor could she make someone crawl on all fours by just looking at them. Or engulf someone in warmth with a strange aura, that spelled anything but human.

The faces of the three men flashed before her inner eye.

Why?

Why did she let herself fall into the comfort of those blue eyes? They had spelled trouble from the start, just her stupid heart had made her ignore it. She slumped forward, cursing this stupid beating lump, that knew no rest.

Voices from somewhere close by let her head snap up, eyes in a blur. She swiped the water from her face once more, head turning to find the source. Knowing she shouldn't linger like this, she scrambled to her shaking feet, darting in the opposite direction of the voices.

Who knew, what would happen to a lone girl, drenched to the bone if she were to cross the wrong kind of people. She broke out into another breathless sprint, muscles burning already.

She stepped out into the open, the main street at her feet, she crossed it, only to disappear again into another narrow alley. But her jog through it was abruptly stopped as she stumbled over a pile of stinking trash and crashed into the overly stuffed cans next to it. The noises echoed and bounced off the walls, disturbing the silence she so sought.

"Gross." She hissed through clenched teeth standing up, wiping her frame off the wet litter that had kept stuck. The stench was mindnumbing, so she quickly climbed over the mess to get away. Turning the next corner, she stopped dead in her tracks, coming face to face with a three figures on the move, maybe drawn in by the ruckus she had caused, all turned towards her with curious looks.

Great.

Devon squeezed her eyes shut, sending silent curses to the Heavens, if they would even listen anyway. She spun around on her heels, walking back the way she had come from, praying they weren't interested in her.

"Oi, puppet!" A snarky voice called out, to close for comfort.

Tough luck.

* * *

Vergil trailed after Nero at a safe distance. Like the tip of a tail dangling behind, mimicking his movement. Stopped whenever he stopped to have a brief look.

Vergil tried to channel his focus, trying to find her frantic heartbeat, bu the streets were still to occupied to have a decent guess.

They both had no idea where she had gone off too. But Vergil guessed, she would keep herself hidden from strangers eyes. So, at one point, he veered off from Nero's path and warped quickly over the rooftops of the area, he had assessed she could have covered yet on foot.

He scanned every dark passage from the above, but couldn't find a clue. Having to keep track now of both Nero's presence and every other on in close range, he went on in normal speed, not wanting to risk to divide his attention any further.

"Damn, woman." He muttered to himself. It had been a stupid thing to do, and he couldn't believe he was now the one looking for her.

However, his curiosity had peeked, when he had seen all the scars of wounds just a day old. Though it wasn't the healing capacity he and his brother possessed, it still had impressed him. And unsettled him to the same extent.

Yet, seeing her writhe at his feet, he had become aware, she maybe had no real clue what she was. Even if she tried to hide the evidence so clumsily before him, knowing only that she was different. Her panic had almost thrown his devil into a frenzy, and the close proximity to Nero, who had willingly tried to shield her, had added up on his inner turmoil.

He wouldn't let any danger close to them.

But in the end, maybe she just was one meek, poor soul, who didn't understand what was happening. And Dante had realized this, before any of them could.

And Nero was too kind for his own good, a trait he shared with Dante, but because he lacked the experience, he tended to let his guard down way too easily. He could have endangered them all with his stubborn foolishness. Vergil had thought, because of their shared training, that Nero had yet come to be wiser.

But now they were both running across the city looking for a woman of unknown origin, which could be really everything and nothing. So, apparently none of them had learned their lesson well. How ironic. He would have never done such a thing of his own accord.

He always was the more aloof one of the twins. But him and Dante complemented each other. After almost a decade trapped in hell, though, he knew he had turned even colder. Vergil wasn't delusional about the toll it had taken on him. He wouldn't change and certainly couldn't anymore, but being with Dante and Nero had certainly taken some effect on him, as tiny as it was.

Still, if he would find her first, he would make sure to get some answers straight away. And then haul her back, to drop her on Dante, depending on the nature of those answers. It wasn't for him to decide on her fate.

Vergil berated himself, to let his mind wander off so easily. He interrupted his search to stand on the edge of the roof he was on to gather himself and return to his usual focus on things, not feelings. Noises of cars and people and faint music of a nightclub drowned any small chance out to find her. Nero was still close, few streets up ahead and his heart sill beat at a faster pace than Vergil's own.

He shifted his attention down onto the city below, humans and nonhumans alike drifting through the rain like mindless masses. This weather and observation didn't help his sour mood in the slightest. He turned from the ledge and leaped across the alley opposite to land safely, away on another building and leaving the bustle behind.

Still concealed from Nero and careful to let his energy not spike up to be noticed, he closed his eyes and with great effort focused in on every bit of sound, smell and anything in between. If they wouldn't find her now, chances were slim they would find her at all. She knew the city just as good as them. Or maybe, even better.

Vergil's eyes snapped open. It was the faintest of scents, but it was there. Agitation rippled through him evidently. Up ahead, he determined the direction to follow. Rain pelted against his face as he warped towards the source.

With a heavy thud, splashing up water, sending droplets flying in a flurry all around him, he landed next to the figure on the floor. With a flick of his hand, Yamato was laid to rest inside him, for now.

A heavy weight settled on his shoulders, letting his straight posture slump upon the sight. A deep sigh escaped him as he laid eyes on her form, slumped against the wall, probably left the way she fell.

The sight disturbed him more than he would have anticipated. He bent down on one knee, not caring how water, mixed with blood, soaked into his clothes. Resting his elbow on his knee, he took a moment to survey and process what must have happened. Her face and body were covered in blood. Muddy clothes even more ripped apart than before.

With an unreadable expression, he extended his right hand slowly, fingertips ghosting over the tangled mess of wet strands all across her face. With a gentle touch, as to not disturb her, he wiped them away, seeing the severe damage done from up close and unveiled.

With eyes closed and head hanging low, he sighed yet again in defeat.

Even though she was just another of those dirty, epidemic-like street rats scurrying all over the city, in this very moment Vergil felt sorry.

Because, she looked like she never stood a chance against her attacker.

Behind him a steel door flew open and three people came out. The nauseating smell of smoke, alcohol and something rotten accompanied them. They were laughing and cheering. Words floated over and Vergil's heart clenched. A merry bunch of despicable human scum.

One last look at her, before Vergil narrowed his eyes at the thrash in front of him and let his energy flare up to an unbearable amount, alarming Nero somewhere in the distance, and to let his opposites know, who they had just walked into.

Wide eyed, all of them instantly choked. Vergil knew even before he closed the short distance between them, they had her blood on their hands.

* * *

"Can you hear me?" A male voice, faint and gentle. Young.

"Y-yes..." Her voice cracked, maybe because of the way she had wanted to scream earlier, but the hand on her throat hadn't let her.

"Ah, good, you can hear me." He sounded kind and pleased.

"What? Who are you? Where are you?" She opened her eyes, but it was so bright, tears welled up instantly, because it almost hurt. From the dark alley to the a light like staring into sun, her eyes failed to see anything.

"I am right here." He said in an assuring tone, that let her frantic heartbeat ease and know a peaceful rest in silence.

"It's so bright. I can't see you..."

The light fainted to tolerable level, and Devon's eyes came into focus. Standing in a vast bright space with no evident boundaries or any shapes to recognize, she wiped across her eyes, for the tears that had fallen blurred her vision.

But the pain and fear dissolved and and endless calm was settling in on her. She took a deep breath and held it for a second. And as it eased out again, she knew she was safe. No broken bones anymore. No cuts and bruises.

Just this.

And the bright light didn't seem so blinding anymore, but gentle. It was consoling her, more than anything ever have could.

If there was an eternity of bliss to follow after having to see all the harshness of the world, she knew it would be like this.

And through a bright haze a figure approached slowly, stopping only a few steps away from her. He was dressed in the purest white. Pants made of soft looking linen and a simple unadorned tunic shirt around his upper body, stood in pleasant contrast to the sunkissed skin of his face and bare arms and feet.

Eyes shining like golden stars, gave her a sympathetic look.

"Poor girl, look at you." Though his face and eyes told her he felt sorry, his voice sounded cheery, as if it could be made right in single a moment. And Devon couldn't help, but to feel that happiness bubble up from an unknown space within her, she didn't know she still possessed.

Following the line of his pointed finger, motioning her up and down, she looked at herself, though she already knew what to expect. Streaks of red and brown, dirt and blood mixed on her tattered clothes.

"You are used to this?" He asked in his gentle, yet cheery voice.

"Somehow." She replied, not knowing what to make of him. The way she had relaxed into a serene state gave way of his kind nature.

His golden eyes narrowed, because of that brilliant smile on his well formed lips gave her. He even sported dimples as he did so. Gold-blonde messy short hair, with strands sticking out on top and the sides, accented his boyish cheeky face to a perfection.

Devon's heart somersaulted, because of the joy he seemed to exude and it the most irrational feeling to a situation and her mind couldn't process this. She could only stare.

"Do we know each other?" She asked, and he was very amused by this. Coming closer he widened his arms and before she could react, he pulled her into a crushing, impulsive hug, his lean figure misleading easily to the strength he might possessed.

"I know you." He said next to her ear.

But all she could think about was, how she wanted him to stop. It was a scorching heat, that radiated off him. And she was afraid she might burn on the touch of his skin.

"That's not much of an answer." Devon croaked, having trouble to breath and speak.

To her surprise, he let her go instantly. "Sorry." He smiled sheepishly, flexing his arms. "I, uh forget sometimes,you humans are squishy."

"What did you say?" She asked, voice barely above a whisper, shocked by his words.

His ashamed grin widened. "Squishy? I know, that was rude. Sorry."

"No, the other word." Devon shook her head impatiently.

"Human?" He tried again. "Well, that's not offending now isn't."

"Who are you?" She wanted it to hear from him. She wanted him to make her believe there was more to life and death, than just existing and vanishing into a pile of dirt.

In a world forsaken and godless, she wanted to believe that still someone was holding the reign. Someone to tell what all the sense in this was. And she always thought, that if she would hold on long enough, that someday someone would eventually tell her or help her to find out. Because all alone it was so hard.

And the irony of it all didn't miss her. How she would, in all her hopelessness, come across one, apparently playing for the other team.

After the tower incident, the city had been swarming with creatures not from this world. Vile beings that had no sentient thought.

Dante. Vergil. Nero. Where did they originate from when not being human? Every fibre of her being, the moment he had touched her, had become inflamed to his oppressing aura.

The man in front of her felt so different from the effect Vergil have had on her.

If demons existed in this world, then angels could too? Right?

Eyes set in determination she saw the blonde man with the golden eyes point his finger again, this time at himself with pride and an expression of utter joy. "Me?"

Devon huffed at him and nodded, how long did he want this to keep dragging on? "Yes, you."

He suddenly thrust his hand out. "I'm your friend. I was with you, the moment you stepped into this world. Though, I can't really remember everything. It's all hazy most of the time. But, it changes sometimes. I could see people, who became aware of you. How they looked at you. The way they did."

His lifted his hand to put it on his chest, right over the spot where his heart sat.

"And when they do, I can feel their eyes on me. And I know, I am still alive." His voice had become yet more gentle again and grew quieter. "You know that feeling, don't you?"

So, it was true. If she believed this being in front of her, soaked with gold and light, that could cause a heart leap and a soul to be at peace, then she could rest assured.

Their eyes found in each other and locked into a state of complete mutual understanding, that went deep, like a lance of fire piercing her beaten and battered body.

She nodded, feeling the telltale prick of tears in the corner of her eyes.

His eyes became glossy as well, as he spoke. "I could see it in their eyes. They woke me up some time ago. There is energy in those eyes I can feed upon. I am so far away from home and sometimes all I need is a friendly face to be reminded of who and what I am. And it's hurts. But it is better than to loose oneself completely. So I endure, until you would find them."

Devon didn't understand a word. But somehow, she could feel what he was trying to say. "The friendly faces?" She almost choked, knowing exactly who he was talking about. He nodded solemnly.

"But...I" It was hard suddenly. In this very state of serenity, where she knew to be safe forever, she thought of them. "I...can't go back, can I?"

Devon had realized, her body had stopped it's vital functions. She knew, and to make sure, her hand flitted across her own heart, which was silent.

"Here." He extended his hand. "Do you trust me?"

Sobbing, she nodded and stretched her own hand out.

"Good. Because we can't die just yet. We are not allowed to. We have to endure. Together."

And with that he firmly grabbed her small hand and a jolt shot through her, her breath escaped her throat in a choked huff. It felt like she was being pulled under water. A current arose, to which he appeared to be completely unaffected by, and was about to rip their hands apart. His brilliant golden eyes looked at her, and suddenly Devon did not want to leave him behind, this poor creature, all alone, yet with so much hope in his eyes, that it could last for many lifetimes.

But her body jerked away from him. "Who are you!?" She yelled as a flurry waterspout erupted around them.

He gave her a last grin before his fingers let loose. "Can't you tell?" He asked cockily, laughing loudly over the crashing waters. "I'm Compassion!"

"What?" She screamed. The noises grew louder, a hurricane of water and darkness swiftly drowning his voice and frame out.

"I'm Compassion, but you can call me Pesh!" He yelled happily on the top of his lungs. And with that she fell into darkness.


	9. the girl who lived

Chapter 8 - Devon

* * *

All was silent except for the constant battering of the rain. Vergil properly adjusted his footing on the slippery ground.

Ready to deliver.

Three pairs of eyes just stared, hypnotized by the rapid, constant twirl of the katana in his hand, flashing a light reflection whenever it did a round to the rhythm of their beating hearts. They were scared by the ominous presence, that pulled at their beings, making them feel like nothing but petty sandcorns caught in an enormous, violently rampaging storm.

The puddles of water around Vergil started fizzing and slowly vaporized, tiny clouds of smoke gathered. Giving him an ethereal air as they wafted around his figure, billowing up until it engulfed them completely.

The hybrid's eyes shifted slightly to his right, narrowing at the female, for he was not the source of that incredible heat coming off the ground beneath his boots.

The earth literally throbbed. A steady rhythm, like grim drums of a long due war. In that second, he incredulously eyed the body, which had started to give of tiny swirls of golden smoke.

And this exact moment, as the easily controlled situation slipped from Vergil's steady hands, Nero came running and skidded to an abrupt halt.

Guilt. Shock. Hurt. All mixed together to form a tight coil in his belly, as his inner demon took this scene as a reason to begin a rampage, twisting his insides into a metaphorical bloodied mess. The beaten and battered body was all he could see through a reddened tunnel vision.

Before he could ask or truly process the scene, her body on the ground gave of a lush golden, pulsating light, Vergil's yell broke the silence and his opponents out of their stupor. "Watch out!"

Nero's air got knocked out of him, as he was hurled back against the solid wall, which broke upon his heavy impact.

The blast came swift and loud, launching several alarms of some cars down the street. It cracked the every walls within a 60 feet radius, the ground flew up in lumps of mud along with the cobble stones and the rain still evaporated before making it's way to the ground.

For a second Nero was deaf and blind all the same, scrambling on all fours, heaving for much needed air to fill his lungs.

Vergil evaded the blast barely, landing back on his feet next to Nero who slowly rose to his shaky feet, huffing and groaning as he cradled his ringing head.

"What the hell is going on?" Nero's voice cracked as he forced the question out.

The air was hot and steamy. Nero's eyes scanned the area frantically, and through the cloud of smoke he could identify movement.

A bloodied, dirty figure stood there, holding one of the men, who Vergil had encountered earlier, at an arms length. The tiny, female hand on his throat not fitting the malice that hung in the air.

Strangled noises and breathless gurgles escaped the man, as his trembling fingers desperately struggled to pry the hand off. He scratched at the skin and weak fists battered on the arm that was about to crush his windpipe. His feet tread across the ground, kicking up mud in a clumsy, yet violent dance for his puny life.

The figure didn't seem to notice Vergil and Nero at first. The yellow light twirled around her frame like wisps of smoke, off her arms and shoulders, off her head and feet and it had mislead Nero for a second. But now he could see. "That's her." His voice sounded hoarse.

Vergil knew, she had been dead. Her heart had already stopped, when he had found her. It must have happened quick and brutal, judging by the heavy trauma her head had received.

"Devon." At Nero's voice, her head jerked to gaze upon him. The man she held had almost given up on his futile fight. Her eyes zeroed in on Nero, at first hostile, but after a second it changed, it was almost friendly, a wide smile of cracked lips showed him bloodied teeth. And he flinched.

Vergil stared impassively, knowing at the moment, they weren't her priority, that only her attackers needed to fear and suffer for their actions. He noticed another one of them still laying unconscious on the ground, having experienced the full force of that blast earlier. The last male didn't survive it at all, his head cracked open on the contact with the brick wall several feet away, sprawled out in an unnatural pose.

Experiencing something so vile of a woman Nero had just learned to be shy and sweet, timid and kind, let his blood run cold.

"Devon, what are you doing?!" Nero yelled, shocked to see her like this, ready to shake her out of it.

Vergil stopped him, holding Yamato out, marking a line to not cross. "They killed her. Let her have her revenge." He wouldn't risk to let him step in between and possibly pay as dearly as them.

Nero, who had been ready to shove past him, stopped dead in his tracks. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I guess we'll learn soon enough." More than anything, Vergil was fascinated and curious to know what exactly effected her to become like this. Her death had triggered some kind of power and he wanted to know what it was. It appeared raw and primal at first, but it was different from the savage beast prowling along the edges of his sanity.

The lifeless body she held was negligently hauled away and landed, resounding with a sickening crack and squelch, next to them. Nero's eyes followed the trail, seeing how his throat had been ripped apart. He gulped and his gaze snapped back to her.

Her entire body pulsed, like a dark heartbeat beneath their feet. Her movement was off, jerky and uncoordinated. She looked similar to a marionette, who's player hadn't yet learned to steer her properly.

She took a moment to regard both of them and that unwavering grin made Nero sick to the stomach as much as the ripped throat of her victim.

One golden eye shone brightly while the other was obscured by wet hair, clinging to the right side of her face.

Nero's body moved, his devil bringer swatted Yamato out of his way, as he marched towards her.

"Nero, don't." Vergil snarled dangerously.

"Oh, shut the hell up!" The reply was delivered equally, no patience left for Nero to call upon.

"Stop." As he reached her, he extended his hand towards her shoulder, but his wrist got caught before he could react. The force hit him unprepared, the pain and the crackling of his bones almost bringing him down to his knees. His skin was on fire, so hot he could feel the blisters forming under her fingers.

Alarmed, Vergil jerked forward, pushing Yamato up from the sheath.

Nero saw this from the corner of his eye, immediately holding his devil bringer up, palm turned towards Vergil. "I got it. Don't." He huffed under the vice like grip, almost snapping his wrist in half. "Please." He pressed the word out in a hoarse groan. "Don't hurt her." He readily pleaded, and the desperation in his voice made the twin halt.

Nero even moved closer into her personal space, staring into her eye with the color of liquid gold, moving around the iris in a mesmerizing swirl. "It's me. Nero." The hold wavered, as she stared back into his blue one.

"Devon. Stop. It's okay." His voice shifted to a gentle, reassuring tone, though his heart was ready to jump out of his chest. He inhaled deeply and held his breath, while he moved his devil bringer up to softly touch her upper arm. She had stilled completely, but continued to hold on to him, the force dispersed. All he felt was the heat under her skin seeping into his own. A shaky, yet relieved sigh left his mouth.

The scorching feeling had subsided and was now a warm glow, steadily creeping up under his skin, spreading through his entire being with a tranquil glow, thudding in time with his heart. It was the strangest feeling Nero had ever encountered, powerful and so different from his demonic essence. It was comforting.

Whatever she was, she was no demon, of that he was suddenly certain." You can stop now. No one is going to hurt you." He told her, keeping his voice calm and low, carefully choosing his words which where rolling off his tongue as a soft imploration.

"Nero." She repeated his name, like remembering a far away dream. Whispering things long forgotten as she slowly regained her senses. It was like emerging from a cold sea of dark waters from a deep breathless dive. Her lungs burned under the heavy breaths and the noises of her rushing blood thudded in her ears. The shards of her shattered existence cutting her open and let her bleed forgotten memories, and the pieces moved back together to form the picture and come to life before her.

Yes, she knew the man in front of her with the gentle blue eyes.

A tentative smile broke out on his face upon hearing her say his name, but faded as soon as the golden eye grew dim. Her legs gave out, under her weak body, not used to the strain of tapping into the foreign powers from within, at least not up to this extent. Nero caught her limp frame effortlessly, gathering her up her into a crushing embrace.

"She's completely exhausted." Vergil had come closer to stand next to him and regard her unconscious form. "Let's get out of here and bring her home."

Nero's head snapped up at him, shocked eyes wide with astonished. Whatever he had Vergil expected to say, it wasn't this. "What were you doing here anyway?"

"I thought you could use some help." Vergil shrugged nonchalantly.

"I should have known you or Dante would follow me." Though his words sounded like he despised the idea and was tired of them making such a fuzz over him, he was glad one of them was here. "Thanks, for finding her."

"That's alright. Now come. Before anybody sees us around this mess. I'd rather not deal with it." Vergil urged them to move.

Nero could only nod.

But before they could heed his words, the last out of the three thugs finally groaned and was coming back to his senses. Vergil gritted his teeth, annoyed by the new hold up, as he approached the slumping figure.

Nero had tugged Devon securely into his embrace, his cheek already smeared with blood from where he had rested it on her head, breathlessly waiting for what the twin was about to do.

Vergil stared down at the despicable individual and to his own bewilderment his hands had started to tremble. His inner devil broke out into excitement, growling at him to rend, maim and slaughter.

It took all of his self control to not trigger in this instant and shred this puny, disgusting being to bloody, delicious bits.

The man in front of him cowered with his back pressed to the wall.

Yes. Writhe in fear, worm. "Stand up, you piece of filth. Look death in the eye when it comes for you."

"Vergil." Nero sounded alarmed, he felt the presence of the blue devil slithering around him, clawing at his every fiber. Vergil was going in for the kill, just like she had not moments ago. He couldn't take the drastic overriding of his human senses, without losing himself as well. All he wanted to do was leave.

Devon was in desperate need of treatment. Her face, her eye.

Nero couldn't even bear to look at her any longer.

God, her eye….it was just gone.

"This will only take a second." Vergil casually wiped the rain of his brow to not have it drip into his eyes and disturb him.

Never had Nero seen anyone of them murdering a human in cold blood, although he couldn't argue much if what Vergil said earlier was true. Did they really murder her? And if so, how the hell was she alive? However, any misguided conception form Vergil's side was simply laughable and out of the question. Nero relented and finally agreed. "Do it."

He waited for the telltale swish, but stared in surprise when nothing happened.

Vergil thoughtfully tilted his head at the shaking figure. "When I think about it, I have a better idea." Vergil explained his change of heart, sounding mildly amused.

"You're not letting him go, are you?" Nero asked back incredulously, face contorting to a display of utter disgust.

"Just wait and see." Was all Vergil replied in a cryptic matter.

The twin fixed his stare back onto the miserable being in front of him, to let him know he wasn't off the hook just yet. The thug regained some of his movement, but still looked up terrified at his opponent. He watched in fear and disbelief as the verbal exchange carried out about his supposed fate. As he understood, he wasn't going to die, he slumped back relieved and a shaky groan escaped his dry throat.

Vergil took a few steps back from him.

Cling. The distinctive sound of pushing Yamato up, the blade was ready to be fully unsheathed. And in lightning speed that only Vergil was truly capable of, the blade swished and was quickly sheathed back in. Before the man could even remotely understand what happened, Vergil took a step towards him once more, inspecting his handiwork with a satisfied sardonic smirk

"An eye for an eye." He told him, no emotion traceable in his voice.

And then an agonizing scream erupted from the man's throat. He didn't even see the movement. A warm feeling on his face just told him, something was very wrong. His vision blurred and narrowed. Then came the pain.

And Nero understood, and a strange sense of calm, but grim satisfaction flooded his body when Vergil spoke again, after the man's shriek and turned into sobbing and moaning, having fed enough on the dread and pain to haul his excitement back in.

"Just a friendly reminder. Tell, whoever wants to hear and even to those who don't, what happens to the likes of you, if you ever lay a single finger on any being in this city again." Vergil stepped forward. One well delivered strike with Yamato's unbreakable sheath to the head and the sobbing mess of a man slumped sideways, finally silent.

"Give her to me." Vergil extended his arms, surprising Nero even more. "I am faster than you. I will get her home safely." Also, he wanted to be the sole individual to suffer from her wrath, if she should wake up as disoriented as before. He knew, Nero wouldn't have it in him to end her if the need arose. Vergil wouldn't take any more chances, seeing the way Nero had acted so foolishly as to snap her out of her vengeful, carnal state earlier.

Nero couldn't do much to argue with the reason, though still reluctantly giving up his clutch on her light as a feather frame. Vergil gathered the unconscious woman into his arms, giving Nero a nod of approval. "We'll meet at home." And in a blurred flash he was off.

* * *

Vergil entered the house silently through the unlocked window of his space in the attic, making his way across it and downstairs to set Devon up in Nero's room. He placed her on the bed, quietly regarding her with his stoic expression, not knowing, if this was the right choice or not. But Nero would have insisted either way and in the end, they couldn't let her walk around in a state of unknown roots and let wreak havoc wherever she went, either.

She was their responsibility now. And he had been the one to trigger the circumstances they found themselves in. He had to give Nero credit, for being able to calm her enough to let go of that immense power earlier and fall into a state of blissful unconsciousness. Also he noted, that all the cracked bones and split skin began a solid, but slow healing process.

She had felt feverish before in his arms and he now laid the back of his hand onto her forehead. He didn't know, if the heat resulted from the procedure of weaving cells back together or from the injuries. He wasn't too educated in this kind of knowledge.

He sighed and left her, to inform Dante of what had happened. He didn't need to search for his brother, though. As he closed the door of Nero's behind him, his brother came up the stairs, face scrunched up in a displeased expression.

Before he could say anything though, Vergil held both hands up. "I know, spare me the look." They spoke quickly in hushed voices, briefing each other on the latest turn of events.

As soon as Dante mentioned Trish, Vergil advised him to let her have a look at the female to make sure she was going to be fine. Both went downstairs, with Vergil finally meeting the riders. With the news still hard to swallow, he quickly explained to Trish what had happened. At least the gist of it and voicing his opinion to stay on her toes though when she would treat her.

Dante followed suit, wanting to witness from up close what his brother had talked about. The sped up healing left no room for doubts any longer. He watched silently, while Trish tended to her, meticulously cleaning all the grime and blood of, where the clothes would let her.

Layer by layer gently wiped off, until white skin was left, which was starting to loose it's unnatural heat, the closer it was to mend the injuries into scars. It was a faulty, not fully developed healing skill and Dante could guess why. Maybe because it was a possession of some sort or a faulty spell gone wrong, or the powers were dormant in her small body were not yet fully woken.

Deep in thought he watched Trish's treatment seemingly for hours, thinking and evaluating the whole situation, deeply wishing for Danzig to be here. His former mentor, in all his wisdom gained through eons of long life, would definitely have an answer for this.

A soft knock on the door brought him back into the here and now. "Come in."

It was Nero, sporting a deep, worried look, he hadn't seen in a long time on the kids usually bright or cocky face.

"Hey Trish." Nero walked over to her, and wanting not to disturb her in her task, he put his human hand on her shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze. She looked over said shoulder, a sympathetic look for the uncommonly quiet greeting she received.

"She's going to live." Trish answered to his distressed look, as it wandered over Devon's skinny form, hidden under a thin blanket, which let's him see how skinny the woman truly was, as if drowning in his big clothes hadn't been indication enough. It didn't help to pt him at ease, but instilled the thought of how her weak body would react to all the stress it was put through.

Dante stood up from the chair, instantly realizing from Nero's behavior, he obviously hadn't met their new house guests yet. He cursed internally, for he had to go through the entire conversation over and over again. This was way too tedious for his liking, but necessary. And it would give him something else to focus on, which wasn't for the worst either.

Vergil's presence radiated from above. "Come with me for second." Dante opened the door to let Nero through, then took the lead towards the attic.

"What's wrong?" Nero gave Dante a curious once over, who had turned towards him with a cautious stare, before they climbed the narrow staircase. "Keep your calm, okay?"

Nero shrugged in return, ignoring the pointed look from the older man. "I want you to meet someone."

Of course, Nero caught on instantly, because it had been nagging for twenty-four hours straight in the back of his head. "Oh, is this who you got the message from?"

Opening the door to Vergil's room, without the courtesy of a knock, was the only answer he received from Dante. He barged in expectantly but widely unprepared for this and almost lost his wits on sight.

"Fuck..." He breathed, laying his eyes for the very first time on the two imposing riders, their presence filling the room with dignity and grim determination, it was overwhelming his senses on a whole other level.

With a smirk, Vergil introduced them both with their names, leaving Nero in an open mouthed state of awe.

Certainly not the reaction either of them had anticipated. The kid was rendered speechless.

Death stood by the open window, watching Dust pick splinters off wood from the sill, gawking happily at his master. War had opted to sit on Vergil's oaken four poster bed, knowing it's solid craftsmanship able to hold his weight for certain.

Few candles illuminated the room with a comfortable warm light.

Dante walked over to his brother, sitting in his trademark armchair, several books strewn across his desk and on the floor, opened up on different pages. They blatantly had walked into the ongoing discussion of the origin of Devon's power.

Dante took a gander at the book Vergil currently had on his lap. Ars Goetia. He knew that weighty book and it was drag to read.

"Death wants to speak with her." Vergil informed his brother, closing the book on his lap and placing it carefully on the table.

"ALright. But not now, she need all the rest she can get. " Dante replied. What better way to have the oldest rider estimate her state, for he certainly possessed vast knowledge about many creatures, neither of the twins had ever come across yet. A circumstance Dante wasn't too sad about though, truth be told.

Nero fiddled with the hem of his sweater, noticing War's curious eyes on his devil bringer. "That's the child you are training?" He directed his questioning look towards the twins. Dante settled down on the armrest of Vergil chair, crossing his arms with a nod.

"Correct. He will assist us on our task. Even if he's young, he had his fair share in battle." Vergil praised Nero in an uncommon manner, while folding his hands over his stomach as he leaned back into his chair.

Nero's eyes went wide at Vergil's words. A giddy feeling coursing through his veins, excitement bubbling up to split his face into an eager grin. So, all this trainign with Vergil did pay off, if that's what convinced him in the first playe to so easily back him up.

Dante motioned for him to come closer eventually and Nero sat crossed legged on the floor, careful to leave a respectful gap to the enormous figure on the bed and on the other side at the window, and to admire him from a safe distance.

Nero, for once very much concentrated and attentive, listened closely to everything the riders had to reveal to him. Slightly in awe and elated by the faith put in him, he hung on every word that they said. Death, with his stoic and calm demeanor very much reminded him of Vergil, though a darkness was surrounding around him, that made him entirely different from the half bloods and himself. They were all dangerous, but Death and War appeared to be the epitome of destructive force. Just like their names let assume. Yet, Nero founnd it hard comprehend the true power one of them holds, being able to destroy a whole world if necessary.

"Well, count on me." Nero promised, as they had ended, curling his hand into a fist, trusting it into his devil bringer's open palm. When someone had thought Nero to get discouraged or intimidated by the news and forshading of events, they surely were in for an eye opener.

Not the twins though. Vergil, letting out an amused grunt, softly elbowed Dante in a furtive move, to look at the enthusiastic young man.

"He has your spunk." War remarked with a slight chuckle, letting the whole bed vibrate under him, nodding at Dante.

"Don't I know it." He agreed with a chuckle.

They all stayed up for almost the remaining night and with Devon sleeping safe and sound, Trish eventually joined them to brief and get an a complete update herself.

Nero, after a while, volunteered to watch over the Devon, but as soon as he assumed his position on the bed side, hunched over in his swivel chair, he felt the weight of the last day dragging his eye lids down. Using his arms as cushion, he laid his head onto the bed in a most uncomfortable way. He didn't think to cover his appendage due to the hazy sleepiness.

Fingers brushed against Devon's, resuming to feel that serene warm glow, he had felt earlier and he plunged head over heels into the comforting bliss of sleep.

* * *

"I can see it, human." Death held the Devon's chin in a careful grasp, between his thump and forefinger, turning her face up to have her eye staring into his own orange, glowing orbs. She found out, that Dante had not overexaggerated and he was stunningly outlandish, with his protruding spine and sickly purple skin, taut over huge muscles, decorating his overall tall form, that Devon only could gape at when she saw him the first time. Also, it did not help, that he was almost twice her height.

However, after the initial shock had subsided and his deep, quite pleasent voice aided him in his case, Devon found her head was elsewhere, when the warrior talked to her.

This morning, when she had woken up, mind wandering along the threshold to reality, Dante had been there, finally giving her enough information to send her thoughts into another flurry. Riders and devils. Demon hunters and protectors of the realms. Himself, the hybrid son of Sparda and his twin. And Nero, the one with the demonic glowing arm, who he had met in Fortuna upon a job.

This was all too fantastic to be true and weighing down on her weak form. Physically and mentally.

She wasn't fully healed yet, but still opted to heed Dante's advice to have Death take guess at her. The right side of her face had taken the brunt of the attack, thick scars had formed around the empty socket. Though the healing factor she had always possessed had sped up remarkably, it was evident, that the power of Pesh, who had slumbered inside her, couldn't fully undo the damage either.

Now, she stood here in the middle of the living room, in front of the being called Death, upon which she looked equally in fear and distrust. Dante stood behind her, hands on her shoulders like a protective parent, as to let her know, she had nothing to be afraid of.

Vergil was seated on the couch, looking like he owned the world, indifferent expression to boot. The breathtakingly, beautiful woman, who's smile would stop any from crying was nowhere to be seen. Devon had come too only long enough to realize she had been cleaned and dressed, before the peaceful familiarity of the room had let her know rest once more.

The red rider regarded her the whole time with curious eyes, that did not feel as uneasy on her as Death stare that wormed itself right into her very soul.

In the far corner of the room, Nero sat alone, with a brooding look, eyes and mind elsewhere, only to snap back up, when Death dropped the bomb of the origin of this foreign soul hidden inside her.

Fully awakened to boot, but that only Devon knew for now.

This felt as surreal as it could get, with everyone present fixed solely on her and the unvoiced question tensely in the air. What had happened, clearly defined Devon's complete view on the world anew and it granted her one explicable truth above all.

Pesh, had saved her life. Or brought her back. In all honesty, that was exactly what she believed.

"So?" Dante, still kneading her shoulders in a means to keep her calm, piped up, impatient for a further clarification of the riders statement.

"He doesn't mean ill, if that's what you're asking." Death replied, eyes finally veering away from her and letting go of her face. Devon jerked her head away immediately, as he did so.

"How do you know it's a he?"

Death straightened his posture and crossed his arms. "The one you are harboring inside you, burning away your life essence as much as he tries to maintain it, is the soul of a virtue." Her bewildered eyes narrowed, the unvoiced question hanging heavy in the air. Death sighed at her. "An angel."

Though deep within Devon had already guessed it from her former encounter, but believed it way too fantastic to actually hold on to her initial premonition, had it now in the verification of a being older than mankind.

Nero was the first one to speak, less baffled, but more irked, painfully reminded by the mislead conception of Fortuna's deceased Order. "You're kidding, right?"

Dante regarded Nero with an uncommon, sharp look to not disturb. Though he was equally distraught, not by the revealing it was an angel, but the additional information Death had dropped as carefully as you would drop a bucket of freezing water over your least favorite person. It hit him square in the face, and the way Devon tensed under his touch, he knew she had understood it as well. It wasn't bound to end well, if not dealt with.

"Is he responsive?" Death asked her with the precision of a skilled surgeon, attempting to cut away layer by layer of her being. "What did he say to you?"

Devon lowered her face, not able to look him in the eye for one more second, as he forced her to answer something so personal in front of everyone. The level of her discomfort was rising with the temperature in the room.

The twins especially felt their respective devil respond. Dante squeezed her shoulders, whipsering for to calm.

Nero's arm flared up like wildfire. A single beacon for her to follow and realize what was happening. That she actually was the source and all eyes fixed on her in agitation. Again, she remembered what Dante told her this morning, how she had reacted and Nero had been the only one able enough to calm her down. Or that what was inside her.

He and his curious arm, that hung from his side without the trademark glove today.

Devon, wide awake and finding more control of the emotions welling up from deep within, mixing with the presence behind her closed eye, focused to calm the invading feeling. "He said, his name was compassion." And to her surprise it truly heeded her and they all relaxed slowly back.

"A virtue." Death concluded darkly. "Not much is known of the oldest of angel chastes for with they vanished. They were the first, manifestations of their respective virtue, leading the archangels on to adhere the moral imperative of the Creator. And all other angels that followed. Only rumors about their missing came out of the white city. Nothing more."

"So, what's it doing here, hiding in a human shell?" Vergil asked, blue eyes fixed on her, yet again adding to the uncomfortable feeling as if she was on trial.

"That is the exact question." War muttered on behalf of his brother.

The hands on her shoulders disappeared and Dante came into view, walking around and rubbing over his face, giving away his frustration, as he plopped own on the couch next to Vergil, complaining over the unsatisfactory outcome of Death's assessing. Not getting closer to the core of this mystery.

Devon drowned out all the different voices, struggling to cope with the amount of information she received all at once. Angels, devils. Riders of the apocalypse and it send her mind into a dizzying spin, where it all jumbled together, until a crystal clear thought shot up all above the others.

It was eating away on her life essence. Did Pesh know?

She heaved a sigh, then took a look around, seeing how they were enthralled in a discussion over her fate, safe for Nero, who had resumed to brood in silence. She lifted her head and gathered her remaining courage to walk past the huge creature they called Death and towards the door.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Dante called after her, but she thoroughly ignored him. She opened the front door and let it slam shut. This was as frustrating as it was frightening her.

Settling down on the front steps for some fresh air, Devon rested her elbows on her knees and her spinning head in her hands. Feeling shaken by the presentiment of a dreadful outcome, her eye stared into the distance for something to focus on and not noticing how the door opened and closed behind her, until a figure plopped down next to her.

"Hey..." It was Nero, who had followed her outside.

She huffed, not looking at him. He faltered for a moment. "Should I go?"

"It's alright." She waved her hand dismissively, then gave him a curious look, having to fully turn to not leave him in her blind spot. This particular circumstance would take the most to get used to she surmised bitterly. A real, physical reminder of her fate, which she would have to deal with from now on.

"This is all so fucked up..." She groaned at him.

"Are you afraid?" Nero asked gently. His gaze fell upon the curtain of hair, she used to hide the damage done to her face. He briefly turned his head away, baring his teeth in frustration. Like Vergil had told him earlier, she wouldn't recover from this. The power might be able to mend things, but not conjure something up that wasn't there anymore, like her missing eye. It was set in stone and he became painfully aware of that in this very second.

"No." Devon stated, rather calmy, and nero found he couldn't detect the lie, if it was one only to not appear weak before him.

"Well, neither am I. At least not as long as this won't respond..." He referred to his demonic arm, holding it out with his palm open, forwarding it in an encouraging motion for her to take it. "I won't make a fuzz, either." He tried to smile.

"I noticed how it began to glow. This always happens...when...?"

"Always, when encountering a demon. But, it responds to Dante and Vergil alike. And you..."

Devon eyed the arm, when he held it up. "When I get emotional...?" She asked with a hint of amusement.

"So it seems." He saw, how she looked at his arm, but there was no fear or disgust evident in her expression, that would amke him feel uncomfortable on his end.

A shy smile crept across her face. She hesitated for a brief moment, but then laid a tentative finger on the back of his claw. To her surprise it was warm. It felt strange, but not unpleasant. "Can I...?" She asked warily for his permission.

Nero only flipped his hand over, open palm inviting her to take a closer look. Her heart melted with the gesture, though she misjudged it thoroughly. For as she laid her own hand across it to actually feel it, he flinched slightly at the foreign touch and bold move. "I'm sorry. I meant, if I could touch it..." She excused herself with a hint of embarressment.

His wide eyes locked with hers and for the briefest of moments, he caught a glimpse of the golden light, before his inner eye and the spark of tranquility it send through him relaxed him visibly. His voice sounded thick, almsot coarse and his throat felt dry. "It's okay."

He averted his eyes and scratched his nose with his other hand, surprised over himself. The feel of her hand in his made his heart rate speed up. His devil bringer was more sensitive to touch than his human hand. He felt the blood course through her wrist. And it was comforting.

Her pulse had quickened as much as his own. There was nothing else he could feel rather than human skin and bone and blood. Human blood, that rushed in a steady, but fastened rhythm through her system. It was almost hypnotizing to listen to with his overly heightened senses as reaction to the weird situation they found themselves in.

Devon held onto his devil bringer, slightly lifting it to get a closer look.

"What are you …..doing...?" Nero was abashed, when she lightly twisted his limp to get another close look. His body turned a bit to avoid the uncomfortable twist of his arm involuntarily. Devon didn't answer him, but repeated the motion just the other way around. Her other hand joined in and she softly traced the scales of his forearm up to his protruding bone on his elbow.

Nero eyes fell towards her touch and his gaze followed the motion and the prodding of nimble fingers with his lips slightly parted. He didn't know why, but his breath hitched in curious anticipation.

Devon gently tapped the sturdy red shell of his arm and scrutinized the gaps where his usual dim light shone through. It was dormant. But she felt mesmerized by it nonetheless. She could feel him tense under her touch, but to her silent cheer he didn't pull back either.

She turned his hand so his palm faced her once more. The blue and white pattern caught her attention. It felt rippled but amazingly soft. Her fingers brushed along his palm and Nero's breath hitched.

"That tickles.." He whispered with a giggle, as his arm flexed under the sensation.

"Oh, sorry." She apologized softly and turned his hand once more, still inspecting the scales, which covered his fingers up to end in the sharp tips.

Nero still watched her intently. And somewhere in the back of his head he thought, he never had experienced such an intimate moment. Yes, it felt very exclusive and tender.

Her soft touch left him burning in places he had long forgotten. His chest tightened at the sudden flash of memories. Stop it, he reprimanded himself. Stop. It's no use dwelling in the past. All there is, is pain and regret. All that matters is the here and now. But it wasn't his own voice talking to him, but Dante's. And it was damn right.

Nero opened his eyes he didn't even realize had closed. Devon's face came into focus. She smiled. And he smiled back.

Then she slowly let go and he tugged back to his side. But the touch of her gently fingers still lingered on, leaving him craving for more.

"Can I ask you a question?" She kneaded her hands, which had fallen back into her lap, in nervous kind of way. He grinned at the shy antics, knowing that this was still the girl from before, even though something about her had changed significantly.

But who was he to rebuke, for he knew exactly what it felt like, maybe more than any other around here. And even though it might be awful to say so, but he had the feeling that somehow, life had returned to her about the awful impact of the events.

The poor shy girl, he had gone shopping with, had not vanished but gained something. If it was the presence within or the influence of it, he couldn't say just yet.

"Shoot." He said and simply shrugged..

"Was it always like this, since you were born?"

The inevitable question still hit him like a hammer to side of his head. Of course, she would ask this. Everyone eventually did.

He cleared his throat and looked away. "No." He cleared his throat one more time to gain a second, as he tried to push his feelings aside. Flashes of images buried deep within began to flood his mind. Painful memories he felt should have never been addressed again. Not now. His heart clenched, his chest tightened.

Kyrie...

"I was...It..." He began, but his voice failed him. He sighed, but after a few seconds, found the strength. "It changed when I was attacked by some demons one day. It was in a forest close to my home town Fortuna. I managed to get rid of four, but the last one got me and it..." He gulped audibly, trying to find the words. "It...tore my arm off. When I awoke after a week or so, this was there instead."

Devon's hand flew to her mouth. Whatever she had been expecting, this surely wasn't it.

"At first it hurt like hell. I freaked out. But eventually, I came to terms with it. This is a part of me. And from that day on, I intended to put it to whatever good use I can. Then I met Dante and joined him." His voice was nothing but a soft tender tone, trying to keep a calm attitude, at least on the outside.

Nero didn't say how Kyrie and Credo had found him, crying and screaming in his room. He had been a total wreck. Scared out of his mind because of this demon arm.

And only Kyrie had been able to soothe him eventually. And then shit hit the fan with the appearance of Dante and the truth behind the Order. He had lost everything, that had ever mattered in his life on this very day in a matter of just a few hours...it still hit him as surreal, but the pain and regret and anger that had come with it had been as real as it could get.

But Dante had been there for him. All the time for the whole last year. He had sworn to never let anyone close to him again. If something like that would happen again, he knew he would turn crazy and be on a rampage, no one would be able to save him from this time.

So why, with all of these things running through his confused mind, was he here?

He sat there and stared at Devon. And he could deny it all the way he wanted to, but the bitter truth was he already cared for her too much for his own good. And it left him afraid and puzzled for it was only such a short amount of time. He blamed it on the extreme circumstances, which was bound to change people and get them to skid closer together.

And he could get used to her, plus Vergil had stated earlier as they had waited for Dante to bring her downstairs, she would stay here at least for the time being. For all they knew, she could still pose a threat sooner or later. Nero highly doubted it nonetheless.

Silence had ensued between them. It was not really comfortable. Nero wore an expression of pain and fear on his face he couldn't quite conceal. Devon noticed and regretted the question, which had evidently brought back some horrible memories.

His eyes grew distant with every word. And she didn't know what to say. Maybe it was better to be silent. She rested her chin on her knees and stared off into the distance. Neither of them moved.

Both jumped as the door behind opened. "Get inside." Dante ordered, when he realized the tension. Well, of course he was eavesdropping from the start, but no use in telling them.

Nero was glum as he rose wordlessly. He went inside without bothering to look back and made his way up the stairs. Devon watched him with a worried expression as she followed him and Dante, who closed the door behind them with a soft thud.

How should she have known that the topic would summon such hurtful memories in Nero's head, but she felt bad nonetheless.

"I'm off to get some shut eye. Later." With this curt information and an unusual air of aloofness around him, Nero disappeared upstairs.

Dante touched her shoulder, giving it a squeeze and send her a disarming smile that would make every girl weak in the knees. "He's had it rough, but don't worry. Nero is a stubborn ass, he'll come around."

Devon gave him a quizzical stare. "Oh, you've been listening..."

"Can't help it really. Super human hearing and all." He reminded her with making a circular motion close to his ear, grinning sheepishly. Devon refrained from rolling her eye, not entirely believing him.

"What happened to him?"

At this, Dante's grin faded and he shook his head. "If he isn't willing to talk about it just yet, I shouldn't be either."

"Huh. Who would have thought? My brother is decent for once instead of being the usual, insolent brag." Vergil's mockery let's him receive a wry smile.

"An insult and a lie. How original, Vergil."

"It's a rare compliment and therefore true."

Devon's face went completely neutral as he spoke from where he was comfortably seated. Still, a stare was a stare. And Vergil very much seemed to agree.

"Stop it. It's annoying." Vergil addressed her without looking up from the book he was currently holding, a sword rested across his lap. The ominous katana, he had produced yesterday out of thin air, with the hilt wrapped in white silk, a shiny black sheath and a yellow, silken cord. It was beautiful, her mind registered involuntarily.

All things she needed to get used to, she guessed. Him she needed to get used to as well. So, she stepped closer and into his direct line of sight, casting a shadow over the page he was currently reading.

"I wanted to say thanks and for what it's worth, I'm sorry for the trouble I caused."

After Dante's explanation this morning, she felt she couldn't stay angry forever about his behavior. Because, in his stead, maybe she would have done the same.

Dante's eyebrows shot up and Vergil's involuntarily mimicked the action, as he lifted his gaze. He didn't see that one coming. Despite himself, he nodded, no reply ready at the tip of his tongue. His icy stare had wavered, if only by fraction. But for Devon it was enough for the time being.

She dipped her head in silent regard, simply turned and walked off into the direction of the kitchen with a growling tummy. God dammit, she was hungry.

Dante threw Vergil a loopsided grin before trailing after her, sharing that deep craving for a tasty bite to the same extent.


	10. whispers from the past

Chapter 9 – Whispers from the Past

* * *

Devon eyed her opposite silently over his skillfully assembled sandwich. She kept staring at hers for what seemed like ages without touching, or less than a move to her weary bones. Though she was healed, she could still feel that immense weight on her. As if someone was knowing, she wasn't meant to be alive and tried to drag her down. To wherever. And she didn't want to know.

Her body had awoken with a stiffness, nothing could cure up until now. Her skin felt taut, stretched, yet way to tight for her body to fit. The thought, that had come with it, she had energetically shoved aside.

She had been dead. What did she expect it to feel like? Devon was fairly sure,she knew this new soreness and overall uncomfortable feeling wasn't from the

"Aren't you gonna eat?" He sighed, putting his down to rest his head in his palm. "Didn't you say you were starving?"

Her gaze was fixed on the food, but her eyes had turned inward to only to be snapped out of her thoughts by Dante's voice. Without looking up she sighed deeply.

"He hates me."

Dante, not able to follow her train of thoughts, furrowed his brow. "Who?"

"Your brother."

Dante chuckled suddenly, making Devon's head snap up. "What, Verge? No, he's just a bit stiff. He's like this with everyone he doesn't know."

"Oh. Really?" She was baffled, how he could sound so happy about this. To her he seemed more than frightening. And she couldn't get the sword out of her mind, the way it rested there casually as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

"He's just..." For the lack of a better word. "...Vergil." As if his would clarify the whole matter to her, which of course it didn't.

"He really scared me." Devon focused her eye on him, seeing how he tried to smile.

"Trust me. There's nothing to be frightened about." He was sounding convincing, still Devon had the uneasy feeling in her stomach. The way Vergil had eyed her, as he discovered her healed injuries.

"He made me throw up." And with that statement came all the ridiculousness of it, bubbling up like a bottle up sparkling water, ready to blow up sky high.

"That he did." Her opposite nodded, giving her a strange look.

And then Devon laughed.. Loud and uncontrollably.

She burst into an half insane laughing fit, because there was simply nothing else she could do.

It was all too much and even Dante viewed her as if she had finally snapped. She covered her face with both hands, giggling like a mad lunatic. It was all so crazy, her head simply refused to work properly any longer and needed to vent some air.

Dante viewed her and that bubbling, contagious laugh and eventually he couldn't help but join in.

Watching him through her fingers, she laughed even harder. This was so appropriate like dancing at a funeral, but still it felt so good. She completely let loose, the tension, the fear, the questions.

If this was a dream, it surely was entertaining.

"Stop it!" He reprimanded through tears of laughter, but Devon just shook more. There was no sound coming anymore, she was just yapping like a fish out of water, hitting the table top with her flat hands.

Dante wiped his eyes, literally howling with laughter, she just looked too funny.

"What the hell's is wrong with you two?" The voice, not as cold as before, but didn't know if to sound amused or irritated, floated into her ear. It thoroughly helped sobering her up a bit, and the madness threatening to drive her insane subsided enough to cease the laughter.

"How you are able to laugh is beyond me." Vergil chided his as he walked in.

"What else am I supposed to do? I mean, look at me. Look at this whole mess. A good laugh is what was missing in this pile of shit." Dante explained, with a face splitting grin. Vergil scoffed, as he looked around, apparently searching for something.

Then he spotted the bowl Nero had prepared for him the day before and, like a normal being, snatched a grape stalk and gingerly plucked one to pop it in his mouth.

And in this very moment Devon realized something. He had changed clothes and as leaned against the counter chewing away on his fruit, bare footed and in just simple black slacks and a white v neck shirt, he looked so normal as to before. Yet so completely out of place with his air of arrogance and aloofness but at the same time fitting in effortlessly into the land house styled kitchen.

His blue eyes wandered from the fruits in his right hand to lock with her shocked expression for a brief second.

"Oh, right. I was about to think you lost your last bit of common sense." And to top it all, he just made a joke. Devon did a wondrous double take at him, which he deliberately ignored, but naturally deciphered easily.

Devon opened her mouth to gape, but as his eyes yet again strayed to rest on his brother, she knew he was talking to him. So, she fixed her stare back to her plate, and with her narrowed sight, his form vanished from her limited field of vision.

"Not at all." Dante concurred, picking up his sandwich to take a generous chunk out of it and chew it with a thoughtful expression. He became aware of the fact, that Vergil might have been eavesdropping on them, and surprisingly heard enough to make himself appear like a human being for once and not the swordsman that wished to be feared.

Vergil on his end eyed Devon openly, knowing he was in her blind spot, taking in her small thin frame. The way she sits slumped together, only eyes for his brother. He doesn't know, nor understands, but Dante always had a way with people and a keen nose for the needs they had. He was like a compass for those poor souls, calibrated only to find the most messed up ones in the labyrinth of misery the city had turned into.

Devon though nonetheless felt the sharp eyes on her, burning into her like blue flames. Strange enough though when she turned her face towards Dante's stoic twin, there was no menace tangible, only attentive watchfulness and a hint of curiosity.

"You do know what was happening, don't you?" That unsettling question came out of nowhere and seemingly out of context, yet Devon sighed to answer him truthfully. His voice had dropped and the sharp edge she had learned to fear had vanished, giving her some sense of comfort around him.

"I may be blind, but I'm not stupid." Came the funny reply, and Dante could only smirk. This was the voice of the girl he met, what felt like ages ago. His brothers approach was very much working, he guessed as well.

Vergil remained silent, shuffling his bare feet and swallowed another grape, eyes and face fixed into a benign neutrality.

He even refrained from the sneer he wanted to give her, yet he found himself surprised, when Devon had the audacity to grant him with a slight smile. Her voice softened with it, as well. "I think I understood. It was more like a feeling, not words." She said, and her hand clutched the fabric of the shirt, right over the spot where her heart was.

Vergil heard it thumping at a normal rhythm, which he found strange and somehow interesting. For the display of raw power, when she had killed that man, the woman sitting here and eating with Dante was indeed as placid as one could be. Despite that initial outburst, she probably didn't even cause. Whatever the reason, that was still a given with so much information she had to cope with.

"Hah..." She huffed briefly, ghosting her fingers over the damaged side of her face, barely touching the protruding scars. "Maybe I gained some knowledge with loosing one eye."

Both twins understood the metaphor. Whereas Vergil so much but quirked one eyebrow, Dante gave her an exasperated sigh. "How can you joke about this?" And Vergil saw, how it peeved his brother, despite the shared laughter from before.

He knew, that it had hit Dante hard, that he had almost failed on Vergil's account, to protect her.

Devon shrugged, focusing on her plate. "What do you want me to do? Sit in the corner and cry til kingdom come?" Her eye gazed at Dante, waiting for an answer he did not give. "What good does it do...It changes nothing. I could cry, I could throw chairs and I could tear the whole place down, but it wouldn't change a damn thing."

A freshly developed respect slowly sprouted within Vergil upon hearing those words easily coming off of her and bluntly stating the truth. There was reason in those words. And he could not detect her to be lying. She meant what she said.

"I suppose." It was all Dante had to say, before busying himself with eating again. Vergil, still rooted on his spot against the counter viewed her intently with some sort of respect, because everything, from her calm voice, over her earnest expression and her steady heart beat let him know, she believed this. She just knew. And accepted what cards fate hate thrown into her face. And somehow, it offered a form of solace for them.

"I really died, didn't I?" She asked quietly, not Dante, but him. Vergil folded his arms in front of his chest, dipping his head as he answered. "Yes."

Devon recalled the feeling that had coursed through her whole existence, when she had met Pesh.

She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to be able to look at Vergil for longer than just a second, as she released it. "I was afraid, that's why I didn't say anything!" She started to blurt. Trying to explain her reasons for her actions. After what Dante had told her he wasn't mad, yet still she had this urge to make him understand. And to let him know she wasn't a threat to them.

"I didn't know what was going on! But I swear, it never had been like this. Not at this rate."

She wasn't even sure if he was able to follow her train of thoughts, but that wasn't keeping her from babbling on. "I was scared. Scared, what you all might think. I mean, it's not normal, isn't it? So, I tried to hide it from you, until I could figure it out by myself! I didn't mean it bad!"

"Enough." It was one simple uttered word, but held power to easily let her snap her mouth shut. Dante's blue eyes burned into her, leaving her more breathless than her frantic talk. "What's done is done." He said with a shrug, before he gulped down his last bite of sandwich.

The eyes of his twin narrowed and Dante saw his jaw tightening, as he ground his teeth. Oh, snap.

"Dante." His name came as a warning, but his brother shook his head. "Vergil, no." He breathed, fairly desperate, enough to make Devon feel uneasy.

She quizzically looked back and fro between the twins, trying to decipher the meaning behind those unspoken words they clearly exchanged.

But Vergil ignored his brother, head inclined as he directed the inevitable question at the female, daring her to tell him another lie. This was her one and only chance to redeem herself to him, she wouldn't get another. "Do you know, what happened when you came back to life?"

Dante squeezed his eyes shut, as her mouth opened to speak, but realizing she only knew what Dante had been ready to tell her.

"Is it necessary? Is it really? It won't happen again! Look at her Verge! It's enough!" Dante snapped, because he knew, she shouldn't have to deal with any more of this. She suffered enough because of them. It was only fair, to keep it from her, and just try to look out for the signs if this should occur once again. And let her strained brain rest and digest piece by piece what information they choose to serve her.

Devon jumped at his outburst, caught off guard and very much astonished. Her head swiveled to Vergil, who yet again, showed no sign of his brother's words took any effect on him. To her, he did not so much but blink at the booming voice.

The more agitated Dante became the more icy cold Vergil turned. His unwavering, stoic expression did not change when he addressed Devon, leaving Dante entirely out of the conversation. "It's not his choice, or mine. Or anyone else's for that matter. It's yours." His voice changed yet again, it went neutral, non committal, empty.

And Devon suddenly became aware, she wanted to know. Just because he let her decide for her herself, she wanted to know what happened.

"What did I do?" She asked Dante, because he was the one apparently opting for hiding things. He avoided her dreadful eye and the awful scars on her face and turned his head away, refusing to look or say anything. He crossed his arms over his chest, chewing the inside of his cheek.

""If you stay, you need to know, you are a potential danger. We don't know anything for certain about the nature of this being. Angel or not." Vergil replied on his brother's behalf, and like he should have told her from the start.

Devon was flabbergasted, though she summoned the last bit of bravery she held, and held Vergil's gaze once more. She didn't want to miss the slightest hint in his expression, even if he as was hard to read as Dante. Or harder.

"You went into a frenzy, You killed. You or it inside you took revenge. Nero and I were caught up int the middle."

Devon stared and her whole world shrunk down to the exact moment when the crowbar had hit her head and she had fallen back against the wall. Before that, she knew she had been in trouble, but the hurt and anger and fear had fueled her defiance. The moment her mouth went on it's own, and her body got so far as to show them the middle finger, she had been done for.

And then she had met Pesh. And then she had felt Nero's hand on her and drank in his sight and the vast sadness in his blue eyes. And then nothing. Did Pesh do it? Did she do it? She had no answer for him.

"I can't tell what happened. I don't remember. Did I hurt you? What about Nero?"

Vergil gave her the faintest of smiles, again satisfied with her earnest report. "No, you didn't. And on Nero's account,it was not something he could not walk away from in the matter of seconds." He shifted from on feet to another, another grape found it's way into his mouth, before he continued to talk in his unimpressed voice.

And Devon knew, she couldn't read him at all. He was a stark difference to his brother. Whether he was mad or not, it wasn't to be guessed. He wouldn't let her.

He gave Dante, who listened in silence, but not looking away any longer, an approving look.

"Might be the vengeful soul of an angel. Might have been you. Either way, you stay, you watch your emotions. I sensed it back there, when the rider asked you questions. Don't let him overtake you. Or I'll kill you without so much, but the bat of an eye. Do we understand each other?"

Dante jerked forward and shot up at his twin's last comment. "Vergil! Stop it!"

Two blue eyes simultaneously widened. Devon rendered both immobile for second, Dante openly gaping , whereas Vergil again gave her this look of mild curiosity, as she nodded, looking glum, but voice was a solemn testimony to her consensus. "I understand."

And there was only one reason for Devon to comply. Because, veiled in his threat was a validated information for her. She would stay with them, if she could believe his words.

And with this, all the angst evaporated like a veil lifted from her eye. She could see for real now. She saw, that she didn't need to be afraid any longer. And that even if she was a danger, they would be the only ones being able to handle it. It was as certain and clear like that damn bell that wouldn't shut up, the remainder of time and time again that both their eyes rested on her.

It was her indicator for Pesh's acknowledgment. He was wide awake, she knew. He heard it all. And the deep complacent feeling spreading through her body was warm. Warm like a summer evening in a city of trees and green grass, that was swaying in the soft breeze. And a rich scent of sweet sweet, wild flowers by the wayside floated across the twilight sky.

Peace and comfort.

And the vast sadness and nostalgia was wrenching her heart, for she knew it was all in his memory. His memory of a home long lost to him. Never to return to.

Devon's breath hitched in her throat. The twins found themselves both enthralled and agitated at the same again. But there was no evident threat that hung in the stale kitchen air, but something their inner devils never knew.

And both had to fight back the memories, that came with that strange smell as her far away eyes flickered golden for a second.

Almost just like him.

Lucifer.

The first time when they had met the first and former ruler of hell, he too smelled so good. Too good to be true. And their devils had reacted in the same way. Purring, but stalking cautiously on the very edge of sanity, if it was to be taken away from them. It was intoxicating. And thus dangerous. And to be safe around for his scent smelled different to each being, plucking strings of the heart and calling up memories better to be buried beneath an immense pile of dirt.

But they both had learned over the years to control their urges. They snapped out of it almost immediately. Also because it wasn't as strong and surely not as deliberate as the the ability of the fallen angel, who had found this to be a sick joke no less. And a favorite past time to rile them up.

Both cringed and exchanged another wary look.

Dante knelt down in front of her, hand gently rubbing over her knee. "Dev? You okay?"

Her head slowly turned, bit by bit. Her sole green eye wide with a dilated pupil. A glassy orb, looking through him, brimming with emotion and unshed tears.

"Devon, get a hold of yourself." Dante whispered, as he felt Vergil's eyes burning on the top of his head. "You're doing it again." He warned in a hushed voice.

She blinked, the tear rolled down the side of her face, leaving her eye reddened and glossy. "I'm sorry..." She whispered. To whom she didn't know exactly. To the twins? To Pesh? To the world, she couldn't live in properly? Her mind traveled, what felt like eons, back to the here and now.

"I'm so sorry." Her voice cracked, when she repeated the apology only for them.

"It's alright." Dante said sheepishly and flashed her his thousand mega watt smile and the world was moving again. Only revolving around him, this time.

Devon wiped the back of her hand over her intact eye, struggling to zero in on his face properly, but finally was met with one of the brightest and most comforting smiles she had ever seen.

The smile, that she learned to trust from the very first second on.

Dante extended his hand, at first trying to ghost over the damaged side of her face, but refrained from actually touching it, for she shied away from the tips of his fingers.

He grabbed her hand instead. "You're gonna stay with us. You don't have to be afraid anymore. You're not alone."

Vergil watched, stirring uncomfortably, when the woman threw herself into his brothers arms, making them almost keel over. However, he couldn't help the small grin playing on the corner of his mouth, knowing from the start, with or without the changed circumstances, that this had been bound to happen.

The years in hell and locked away in his own sword might have dulled his emotions or his abilities to handle them accordingly, whenever they showed up with bared teeth and sharp claws, ready to shred away on his common sense, but they never had managed to dull his link to Dante. It had been decided from the get go. Even before Dante had actually come alive with the idea wittingly.

A loud crash interrupted the display of affection yet abruptly. Dante and Devon shot up simultaneously, with the hybrid taking a step forward to let her small frame disappear behind his massive form, standing at full height and high alert.

Vergil unfolded his arms, ready to snap his wrist and call for Yamato. But the spiked up flow of energy stalled him in his attempt. Dante sighed, as they exchanged a knowing defeated look. Shuffling noises and more cracks and dull thuds vibrated in the walls of the old house.

Vergil took a step forward, but Dante held his hand out. "I'll go."

"What's going on?" Devon asked in a small voice.

"Redecoration." Dante jested halfheartedly, but his face betrayed him , giving his brother an apologetic shrug, and made his way upstairs, ready to interrupt the ruckus Nero was causing in his room.

Devon turned towards Vergil, as Dante had left. "I can't quite follow."

But Vergil didn't do her the courtesy to give an explanation. This was too personal. And it wasn't his place to pry or tell. And he knew, Dante would have it under control pretty soon. Or so he hoped.

To Vergil's dismay, Devon was about to shuffle after Dante, but was stopped by the huge figure that stepped into her direct path, looking down on her with his weird eyes no less. But upon her sight, they softened.

War.

Vergil followed close, siding with her as she raised her gaze to look up the stairs, as if she could see, by simply staring upstairs, what the commotion was all about.

"The young one..." War started, but Vergil cut him off with a wave off his hand. "Dante is checking on him."

"I see. Well, your brother wanted to help us with our matter, he said he had something we should see and provide us with answers. Death is getting antsy. You don't want Death antsy."

"I can't help you with that, but I'm sure this will only take a moment." Vergil reassured the rider, who turned then and left for the attic once more. Vergil briefly wondered, what Dante had in mind, but it seemed Nero needed all the attention he could get before he would start to tear the house down.

Devon chewed on her lower lip, worry in her heart and a question on her face and the tip of her tongue. "What's going on?" And she made a beeline for the stairs, because she now knew it had something to do with Nero. Was it something she had done? Why he had left so curtly before?

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." Vergil glared, slight warning in his voice, which left her tingly with fear, but still determined enough to go and see for herself.

When she still moved, Vergil grabbed her arm, not forceful, but with enough pressure to to let her swivel around, realizing how serious this was. He shook his head at her. "Go back and eat your sandwich. By god, you can use it. Dante has it under control."

What exactly was it that had to be under control?

"I won't tell you twice." His voice turned deeper, along with the grip tightening on her bare arm. But Devon relented, because his expression took enough to convey the meaning, that this might be something personal and dangerous altogether, which required one of them to look after. And by the sound of it, few things weren't as intact as before.

Nero.

Maybe she was better off´with not knowing. And who was she exactly to barge in? So she lowered her head in defeat and the hand was gone as she waddled back to settle herself on the table in the kitchen.

And Vergil had a fair point, even if he could have said it nicer. But, like she was well aware it wasn't in him. He was blunt and direct in his methods and actions. Such a stark contrast to his brother.

With a hint of astonishment, she saw Vergil coming back in to join her.

Vergil went straight to business and set the water boiler and a tea can at the ready, before he fetched himself something to eat from the fridge. He could feel Dante in his serene red glow from upstairs and as his subconscious reached for Nero's aura, it had calmed as well, but only to make way for sadness. He huffed to himself, as he settled against the counter, feeling way to tense to sit down.

He open the drawer next to him, grabbing a fork, shifting the bowl from right to left, before he ate his fruit salad in an utmost dignified manner.

To Devon it was astounding how someone could eat so gracefully. It was the most ordinary and menial task, but he made it look like art, piercing three different chunks of fruit on the fork everytime it returned from mouth to bowl.

Despite that, she still started eating her sandwich, feeling like a pig compared to Vergil. And it almost made her giggle again, because she didn't even care anymore.

"What's so funny?" Vergil finally asked.

"Don't mind me...it's just all coming down to me. Still."

Vergil motioned pointed his fork at her small frame. "Figured. Still not scared?"

"Hah.." Devon huffed and gave him a brilliant smile, making her eye crease and twinkle. "Not at all. I know him. He wouldn't hurt me. The exact opposite to be precise."

Vergil estimated very much the same, tho moment he had touched her, he had felt that heat from somewhere inside. And the strength. It was a very old and powerful being for all he knew, but Death and his judgment were correct. It did not feel foul, if anything it felt serene. But his inner devil had howled upon the touch, simply because it's nature was so different from his own.

"So you can talk to him?" Vergil inclined his head at this new revealed piece of information. And the courtesy she was giving them in feeling answer the questions in honest.

"Not like you would think. Like I said earlier. It's more of a feeling. You can't grasp it and I can't explain, I'm afraid. It's just that this damn bell won't shut up when he's happy."

Vergil did a doubletake and it looked funny. "Bell...?" Confusion was written all over his face.

"It rings, every time. He said he awoke and that's where I started to hear it. At first it was scary, but then...then I met him and he told me a few things."

"Like, why it is ringing?" Vergil, very much pleased and feeling enthralled to get some answers without the rider's threatening presence, popped more fruits into his mouth, relishing those thoroughly and with a satisfied expression turned his full interest to the woman once again.

Devon chucked down the last huge bite of her sandwich, which was a lot chew on. She wanted to buy herself the time she needed to fix herself enough to let him of all people know. He wasn't Dante. Or Nero. They would have understood, but as reasonable as he seemed, he didn't give of the impression to be the kind hearted individuals they were.

But, it was based on that one situation and Devon chided herself, for giving in to assumptions so easily. She didn't throw second chances out like it was season sale, but she couldn't help but remember how bot Dante and Nero had reasoned with her about him. He was a lot different, but here in this very moment, he resembled his brother like no other time before.

Devon swallowed the last piece hard and put her hands to rest on her lap, wringing them in her the nervous fashion, that was typical for her. She couldn't look at Vergil either. Her voice sounded small, leaving him to wonder why.

"Pesh, that's his name, he awoke because of the way they looked at me. Their eyes."

Vergil furrowed his brow, more confused than ever, evident as settled his empty bowl down and crossed his arms over his chest, inclining his head and recalling his information so far.

Then it hit him. Of course. Knowing Dante for exactly who he was, it all made sense now.

"I do understand. I know Dante better than he knows himself. He eventually triggered it." Vergil took a straight, self assured stance in front of her astonished eyes. "Because he pitied you from the very first meeting on."

And Devon let out a small sly laugh, at how Vergil so easily encrypted it, compared to herself and the others. "That's right. But not just him. Nero showed concern, and it seemed it hit Pesh right into his sleepy face." She tried to joke, but when she saw, he didn't flex one muscle in his face, she quickly wiped the grin clean off her face.

"I don't know, what happened though when he brought me back. Usually, it's only lasting for a moment...and..." Devon halted slightly puzzled. If it's triggered with compassion directed at her, how then was it triggered back there?

Vergil stood stiff, as he quickly drew his own unsettling conclusions. And then, he felt like laughing. Of all the people, it was him to find her. And, if what they just established was the inevitable truth...

Oh, this was ridiculous.

But, he knew, why Pesh had reacted and had been able to save her. Because, he himself had felt sorry. Because, for a stinking street rat and puny human life, and as uncompelling as it had been, when Dante brought her along, all he could feel when he had seen her sunk down in the dark alley, alone in the rain and cold, it wasn't her fault. And Vergil knew. She didn't deserve to die like this. And that Vergil knew, as well.

He had to turn, to give his spinning head a task to focus on, which resulted finally preparing the tea, he forgot about, and gingerly fixed two cups. Though, she was seeping heat through her skin, which wasn't her own, her skin had felt cold and hard under his touch. As he put the cup down, she viewed him with her one eye, that bore right into him and he couldn't say if it really was her who was looking, or the angel residing and hiding within.

It gave him a tingle to his very bones.

And it wasn't as uncomfortable this time, as his blue devil inside wanted to make him believe in snarling at the oppsoite to his very nature.

For feeling nothing but his brothers existence, because the years of enslavement had left him numb and unaccustomed to the human concepts of either feeling, because he had no human side left, let alone a body and the heart that came with it, it would seem though he wasn't as dead as he assumed.

But everything not concerning Dante or Nero, because of all the shared suffering and loss, which made him feel close to only them, it was brutally ironic that he had been the one to give Pesh that catalyst of a feeling he so needed to preserve his host.

"Don't think too much about it." Vergil advised her with a stern look, hiding his inner turmoil under his daily face, constructed so carefully. "We'll work this out." And why the hell, did he feel the need to add this useless statement. It didn't suit him.

"You make it sound like it's easy and already done." Devon sighed, dipping her head to slurp her tea in a very childlike manner. The cup was way too hot to be touched.

"Yes, because we have to. Drink your tea. It will keep you warm."

And because there was no force between heaven and hell that was like Dante's. He was their beacon, because he always had a way to save the day. With as much mockery and bad attitude as he could produce.

* * *

Dante marched up the stairs with a heavy heart, studding dull behind his ribcage. He certainly did not feel up to it, to deal with this all over again. But he couldn't rely on Vergil to find the right words. And because he was like a blunted knife, driving the thoughts home a bit too violently sometimes, in a way that left you wounded emotionally for days. Or he wouldn't say nothing at all. And somehow Dante had the indication, that a simple sparring match, to take Nero's mind somewhere else and force him to focus, wasn't going to cut it this time either.

God, how often they had been throug and over this.

But, yet again, the boy ached harshly. Dante felt it echoing into every corner deep within his very soul, yet he still felt compelled to finally talk some sense into him. But at first, he would very much like to assess the damage done. To the room and to Nero.

He huffed, before he opened the door, but was met with slight hindrance. It wouldn't budge and through the crack, he quickly saw why. His inhuman strength forced it open with a single push, shoving the wrecked furniture aside, revealing a sniffing Nero sitting on the side of the bed. For the bed and sleeping arrangements it was good news, because it was still intact. But the bad news was, it was the only thing intact in this very room.

He felt it tug on his own insides. How he relieved that fateful day and all days before in that endless agonizing loop in his head over and over again. And he knew, it all had been triggered by Devon and her stupid angel inside.

Nero's demonic arm felt tingly and itchy still, when Dante showed up and without a single word, sat down next to him. He didn't want Dante's nagging or to feel Vergil's stare in the back of his head. And he certainly couldn't look at Devon any minute longer, wearing one of his shirts. And that stupid interaction outside left him angry at himself. Because he had enjoyed her prodding, delicate hands. And it made him sick to the bone.

And it had resoluted and overcome him and his room suffered the full consequences of his guilt and shame. He lowered his head, hair falling into his face to hide from Dante's eyes. The man just sat there, silent resilience and warmth, Nero didn't know he needed until this second. How Dante manged to calm him with onl yhi spresence was a mystery.

Yet, he nonetheless felt that sting to his heart, because it seemed like betraying and dirtying Kyrie's memory with all of his actions. The woman he had loved and he had to bury alongside her brother in Fortuna.

Nero clutched his chest. God, it still hurt so much to think about them, so most of the time he tried to not think about them at all. Keep it at bay, this dreadful feeling of the failure he was. How he could still get up and look at himself in the mirror had been a miracle.

And the touch of the woman downstairs was burning him. He could lie to himself, counting it as an simple act of trust. But he knew he would be lying through his teeth.

His devil bringer flared with the anger and frustration, feeling ashamed and disgusted at the same time. Too many feelings for him to cover right now. He always hated it, how his inner devil tried to overpower him, utilizing his feelings against him, making him go blind with it.

And of course the harder he tried to not think about it, made him think about t even more.

A failure.

He had been forced to discover this one day in Fortuna and when he had stumbled across Yamato, things which had set in motion far more earlier in his life, the katana made his whole bubble burst. Or rather what had been sleeping inside him for almost his whole life.

Yamato. The name he learned upon reuniting his demonic essence with the true owner of the most powerful blade existing on earth.

The infamous sword of the blue devil, his last intact fraction of his soul and power residing within. But how and why it had traveled to Fortuna couldn't be established. Trish and Lady had sifted through the Underground Laboratory for days and days only to come with nothing but information about the countless experiments that were conducted over decades.

It had been disgusting to read all this.

Hundreds of citizens and knights died to the first researcher, whose name was lost upon his untimely death by a rampaging demon horde, he created himself no less, but Agnus had despised the man and after he overtook the facility, he had stored all previous material away to start a whole new aspect of research of his own stone cold crazy mind. The former conductor had performed inhuman deeds until he had found a way to drain power from the sword with despicable rituals and infusing human souls to build soldiers that only the Order could command.

In the end Yamato had been the key. For it was far too powerful to be a simple devil arm. They soon discovered how to use it's power. Or so they had believed. And with the first attempts to merge humans with the essence of Yamato, the first demons were born. Though they were far from perfect. And they were wild and uncontrollable. Not easy to be killed either. Knights and researches had died alike, fighting those creatures defying the laws of nature. Wicked and sentient, they had escaped the labs, leaving mangled bodies in their wake. The island had become a treacherous area, and thus the knights were truly called to duty and action.

After many failed attempts to transfer the power only one individual had succeeded without malformations and seemingly human and demon molded into one being

An unnamed orphan survived and adapted to the power like no one before. Thus a new entity was born.

Nero.

His hair had turned white throughout the process and all memories prior to the experiments had been wiped out. He was not nearly half a demon and with no significant powers to be called forth yet, other than an accelerated healing rate and stronger physical traits than humans, but still a success. He had survived.

Unfortunately for the Order, after Nero's rebirth, the sword would never turn anyone else into a devil again. Simply because after unleashing it, it seemed like all it's powers had transferred to the boy and him alone.

Not shortly after he had changed, there had been a disturbingly loud, grating crack, resounding through the facility many times, accompanied by an ominous voice that whispered over and over until the katana had broken in half.

Never again, it had whispered. Since then, the broken sword had stayed silent and it's aura had been dimished to something that wouldn't even heat a single marshmallow.

They let Nero live and grow up. He became friends with Kyrie, which unknowingly benefited him greatly and so he was sent to a Knight Captain of the Order, Credo, who would oversee his growth and report anything unusual with the white haired boy.

Nero eventually followed his brother-by-choice's bidding and became a Knight of the Order as well. It would be very easy for his superiors to monitor his status and brainwash him until he would be fully grown and made into a fighter like no other.

Little did they anticipate his love for Kyrie, the brotherly bond that formed with Credo nor his personality, that turned out to be unrelenting and strong-willed, defying even to anything that believed itself in control or superior, with the urge to protect the two people he trusted only.

But he never changed nor did he respond well to their brainwashing attempts. Even as Knight of the Order, he showed little to no interest to the teachings. So, eventually, they concluded Nero wasn't what they had first assumed.

Nero became more and more harder to control and when he deliberately disobeyed orders and misjudged a dangerous situation he almost paid with his young life. But the demonic essence inside him wouldn't let him die so easily.

There was one incident, that changed Nero's life forever. And not only his life, but that of a many.

Nero in his stubborn routine, he displayed ever so often, went alone to hunt the creatures down in order to be the hero he so wanted to be. He wanted not only Credo's acceptance to his skills, but strived for acceptance by the whole city.

Nero never had it easy, because of the way he looked. He was different from the rest of the people. And those who were indoctrinated by the order to a never changing life of obedience and restrictions, couldn't suddenly understand nor appreciate the diversity that Nero was.

Only Kyrie and Credo were his pillars in a city that looked down on him. Even after joining the Order and holding a respectable rank, people still seemed wary of him. The contradiction itself, that the Order of the Sword was for worshipping a demon knight never seemed much interested in Nero's hardships. And his lineage was so heavy under overs, nit even Agnus knew the full story of this and the deeds of his predecessor. Not that his utterly narcissistic self indulged in anything beyond his own work. The only thing he wanted was to restore Yamato.

So, they created demons, using the townspeople. And then set them free, in order to have the perfect excuse, for more people to vanish, to fuel the relentless studies of Agnus and keep the knights busy. The Order made itself vital in it's existence, misleading the whole city to it's necessity and that one day their true Savior would come and rid them of the foul creatures roaming the earth. And nothing could have been farther from the truth.

The order continued to veil they true nature with layers of prayers and songs and festivals to ease the townspeople's mind off and let them believe what a beautiful life they had under all these teachings, rules and restrictions.

It was for their own good. Was it not for the dark knight Sparda, that they were saved and ruled by the ones whom Sparda had entrusted them to? The city indeed prospered and became fairly wealthy under the Order and never was anything amiss. Like a true, never changing corner of paradise.

And young Nero envied them for their carelessness, for in him he always had sensed something like an itch embedded deep within that he had never been able to scratch, let alone locate or touch, It had been bound to him revealing a restlessness, he never had known how to ease. So he clung to the only good things he knew and that gave him stability and purpose to his incomplete existence, Kyrie and Credo and the knights of the Order.

He became closed off and a loner, but still caught up in his own contradiction. Getting accepted by the people he so learned to despise.

So, the opportunities presented themselves fairly often, with Nero volunteering as first for whatever demon hunt was conducted. But in response to his attitude, knights refused to follow him, because he was not known for playing for team, but diverting it into competition.

And that fateful day had crept ever so closer, fate waiting for Nero jump in head first.

Kyrie and some kids were in the woods near the city and out of nowhere, some demons had attacked them. Kyrie managed to barely escape with the kids, but one still was lost. After reporting this to her brother in a panic, Credo ordered Nero to fetch reinforcement and then venture with him to kill them off and hopefully to find the last missing child.

But Nero had refused, on the prospect of defeating all those demons all by himself. The people would have shown gratefulness at last, bringing him yet again closer finally accepting him for the strong knight he was.

He had found the horde not far off the town and at first it went fairly well, but his still human body had quickly become exhausted trying to fight off such an inhuman and unwavering onslaught. After half of the battle he had alreeady started to bleed profusely, yet still had managed, thanks to only his iron will and determiantion alone, that had kept him on his tw feet, to slay them until one brute had remained.

It had been a vicious and snarling creature, red and black scales covering the entire body, with spikes protruding from it's back, that had him bleed everytime, when he had just so much as grazed them. A burning sensation, that seemed like some sort of poison, kept his wounds from closing and he kept bleeding until half his right side was drenched in his own blood. His unnatural healing couldn't keep up and he knew he had made the grave mistake to rely on that factor too much.

He had always fought with his strong right arm and his stance righted itself instantly and innately, always turning his sword and shoulder towards his enemy.

He would not let it defeat him. Angry growls had escaped him, as the pain had become stronger and stronger. He had to end it, because he had been on the brink off passing out already.

So with all his remaining strength he had assaulted the thing with killing intent, but blood kept spilling from his forehead and eventually into his eyes. And what followed had happened so fast, later he couldn't even really remember how it actually had happened.

He struck with his right arm lifting the heavy sword to crush and slaughter. And as he blinked his eyes to get rid of the blood, sparks flew from where he cut through the creature. A hefty swing to the slightly less protected midsection, with fewer spikes than on the neck and shoulders, had eventually cut the demon in half.

His sword had clattered to ground, his strength to hold it had left him in the end. But his triumphant thoughts quickly dissolved at the amount of blood that mixed with the greenish white slime from the demon's two body halfs.

The demon had anticipated his actions to some extent. It knew, that he would always favor his right arm to attack it. And would turn his body slightly away to protect it from too much harm.

Nero's eyes had fallen upon his sword on the ground. And suddenly the scene had become very surreal and he could feel how he slowly detached mind from body, because he had felt no indication pain whatsoever.

With dread he had heard the raspy snarl from the demon, which could also have been a snicker for all he had known.

It had looked at him with dimming eyes, on the verge of it's death. And that was when Nero had found out, that these demons were indeed sentient creatures and that they could learn to adapt to their attacker. To some extent at least and in his case, although it paid with it's life, the damage he received was far from favorable.

It had laughed at him with it's last breath until the utter malice, it had looked him up and down with for the whole fight, vanished completely. The dead eyes then had stared lifeless into nothing as Nero had fallen to his knees with heavy breathing, still trying to comprehend the picture before him.

His sword lay there, blunted, with remarkable notches and a significant layer of rust, building rashly on it's shiny blade where it had come in contact with that substance the demon had oozed from his skin. His right hand still held onto the blade. And this had been where his brain had ceased to function. It was not right. It could not have been there, when it had been here where it belong on his body.

And when his eyes and head shifted to inspect his right side, it finally came together. He had stared with the purest and deepest horrors ever experienced at the missing limb.

His missing arm,which still held the sword in it's respective hand.

The beast had ripped his arm off right at the weakest point. The joint of his shoulder. And with that last coherent thought he had passed out.

All Nero had remembered was that he had sunken into bottomless black pits, only to awaken to dark dreams. Nightmares of how he couldn't save Kyrie. And the more he had the same reoccurring scene, replaying on an endless loop, in his head until he had thought he would turn crazy with the vivid image. After countless repeats, he even couldn't seem to remember Kyries face any longer.

Or her hair, her clothes, her voice.

He had known it was all off from the very start. Different, yet his heart clenched with the exact same fear and heartbreak. Every time in his dream a demon struck her down, impaling her and leaving her for dead until a huge fire came to consume her lifeless form, he watched it like the first time.

It had always been the same dream, with Nero running along a corridor and chasing shadows of foul creatures, much like the ones he had encountered. Then he would always enter a dark room an dfin dhimslef all alone.

It had looked like a library, like the one he had seen at the HQ, but much older, dust had settled everywhere. The walls had been panelled with dark brown wood, but the rish brown dulled in front of his eyes. Other than that, it had felt cold and lonely. No fire in the fireplace and no one in there to actually start one.

His voice would yell on it's own accord, but he couldn't understand the words. And a woman would emerge, her long hair hanging past her shoulders and framing her obscured face. At first it was Kyries. Then he couldn't really see it anymore.

But after relieving this nightmare for what had seemed like an eternity, he had discovered,that the hair had been blonde. The white dress, which Kyrie often wore, had turned to a dark red one.

And then the fire place would light up and demons had swarmed the room, tearing him away from her. She would always tell him to go and save himself. And he would always refuse to leave her to die.

But before he could react, a demon would punch his clawed long fingers right through her, almost ripping her apart, leaving him with nothing to do but scream and scream.

Blazing fires then would engulf him and he was ready to die, only to feel warm hands grabbing him, he would swat them away. He wanted to die. With her. But these warm hands would drag him away. He thought of Credo at this. Credo, who told him to not leave him also. That they needed each other.

But somehow he knew, it hadn't been Credo. And that it hadn't been Kyrie either. Nor him.

Never again, it echoed deep inside of him. A voice so dark and sad. And lonely, it would break his heart all over, leaving tiny shard to cut profusely through his skin.

And with a startled yell, Nero had woken up.

From that day on, Nero's arm had regrown and changed. The power within had bestowed him with a way to fight off the Order and their manufactured demon army, which Agnus had created as he took over the research under their newly elected Holiness of Fortuna, shortly after Nero had been tampered. And His Holiness was not like the last. He was keen and interested in all the things, wanting to find a way to awake the sleeping sword together with Agnus. And with him he had the found right person to accomplish this. Ruthless and insane.

Nero's missing arm had been replaced by a demonic version. And a claw where a hand should be. Sharp talons, that could shred those who stood in his way to pieces. It was adamant to damage with weapons of any sort. It's scales doing more damage to swords than they did to him.

Injuries would heal at lightning speed, much faster than before, and not only on the arm itself, but his whole body had seemed to fully adapt to the awakened power within him.

At first Agnus had been delighted to hear of this from Credo, who still protected Nero from the Order, playing things down, but aware of the strife to have exactly this outcome, they had fought to accomplish for so many years.

But Credo had other plans and when Agnus finally had met Nero truly eye to eye, he hadn't been sure anymore. The white-haired boy had become a nuisance and under Credo no less, completely disobeying the Order. And when he had found out the truth, he even went so far as to opting to kill him.

Agnus thought he had the upper hand until Nero had paid him a visit and had reunited with Yamato. Literally.

Agnus had witnessed first-hand, that truly a real devil had resided within the sword all those years. And from this moment on it had used Nero as host, before again healing him on the brink of certain death and giving him the power to wield Yamato.

And Agnus had decided that the kid was much more trouble than he was worth. The Order then decided to get rid of him for good.

Reports about Nero's behavior had already come in frequently and he always had his suspicions in how Credo had been part of Nero's attitude. Credo made no big deal out of the fact that he held no friendly feelings towards Agnus, but he had been essential to the Order, so he tolerated him as much as possible. Until Yamato had been restored, from there on even Agnus existence had become futile. The goal had been achieved. And the Sparda blood had foun dit's way right into the midst.

But even Credo seemed more and more bothered by that smug personality Nero had developed with a more than an unsettling speed. He had always been one of the fittest and strongest among the Order, and Nero knew that, too.

In Credo's eyes Nero had been indeed a true Knight of Sparda, infused with devil powers, yet not really measurable.

But it would seem, Nero hadn't the right person to handle such powers. He lacked discipline and had not so easily heeded The Order and their manipulations, despite his youth and naivety.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, Credo had wished he would have been chosen to inherit the power from the katana with the blue aura. Up to to actually accepting the order to kill him. But with Kyrie in the picture, he eventually had relented and had understood, the only one who could save his sister had been Nero.

Because Credo had seen, how deeply in love this so called demon had been with his sister, Credo had been realizing Nero would have done anything to protect her. And for Credo this suddenly, on the brink of defeat and betrayed by the very same Order he had trusted for so long, it all had become painfully obvious before he died in Dante's arm. So, with his final words he had pleaded at the hunter to save them both.

But, the disaster had been set in motion. Nero and Kyrie had been trapped inside that massive thing, they tried to keep at bay so desperately.

And Nero, on the brink of loosing it all, had come to terms with him and the devil inside that screamed at him to take his just revenge.

But it had been to late to save Kyrie.

The only thing he had remembered was how she had vanished into a cluster of tiny golden lights right before his very eyes. He had thought he had a dream, but later it had occurred to him that this had been their final moment.

And this self hate, that had erupted from the deepest and darkest pit of his soul at his delusional state. Instead of realizing the truth of how much he had failed her, he wasted their final moment to utter useless words that were devoid of meaning. And this became his burden.

It had been granted to them, because Kyries soul wanted to thank Nero for everything they had experience together. Of how he had saved her in the woods. And because he had loved her fiercely from the bottom of his heart.

So, when he finally encountered the reborn Holiness inside and defeated him, all that had been left was to find Kyrie. But she hadn't been there. And when he crushed and pulverized that statue which he plucked from the sky like a ripe grape of a vine, he lost control over his inner demon rampaging on his psyche for having to experience yet another grave mistake. Vergil inside him went nearly insane, having to endure the feelings of loss and guilt through Nero's eyes. Together they had wreaked havoc on the statue, obliterating it into nothing but wrecked stones.

And after the dust had settled and the Savior lay in marble shambles, Nero finally had collected the body of his dead girlfriend. And that had been how Dante had found him, after he had sealed all the gates and destroyed them forever.

And through the hours of grieving over the deceased Kyrie, Nero had felt that warm and strong hand on his shoulder the whole time. And the blue devil inside had been silent for the entire time.

If someone would have watched, never would they have witnessed Dante crack at the sight of the boy. But on the inside, he was fumbling to comprehend what Nero was. Who he was. Or rather, who he wasn't. But with all that cocky attitude, he was reminded at his younger self and Vergil's.

The biggest shock for Dante had been the discovery of Yamato and how it had empowered Nero to use his demonic essence to it's full capacity.

Throughout the whole time, something with Nero's power had seemed off to Dante, but he couldn't put his finger on it. But Yamato definitely had been the catalyst and key.

Nonetheless, he quickly had seen how Nero was a decent kid, brave and fearless, with skills that ended the Order and nothing less was on the boy's mind after he saw how the Order used him, Kyrie and Credo to use the devil arms in order to change themselves to more powerful beings. And to summon the hell gates, eventually leading to the destruction almost complete wipe out of the citizens, Kyrie and Credo had so selflessly opted to protect. All for nothing.

When he had ventured to the rural town, he had never anticipated this outcome. And he felt sorry for the boy who had lost seemingly everything important to his life. But Dante finally held Yamato.

Unbeknownst to Nero, Dante and Trish had found out what the Order truly was and had followed Nero to pursue their own agenda. To destroy the portals, with the help of Yamato.

Dante never forgot the feeling of admiration as he had found out how Nero was capable of wielding Yamato.

His still had more than half a human body and couldn't really unlock the whole potential. Nonetheless, Dante's hopes grew bigger and bigger with every passing step.

He had witnessed Nero using his version of the Devil Trigger and it had confirmed Dante's suspicion fully. Vergil was with them.

The whole time, he had tried to help Nero accomplish, what for him alone would have been close to impossible.

How or why, Dante could only guess at that time, but it didn't matter any more. Dante had shared a fair taste of Nero's true potential.

And when he had held Yamato, all the memories kept crashing down on him like a cataclysm, washing away everything else. Summoned by the sword in his hands, the memories had flooded his bruised heart with so much emotion it had been almost to much to bear.

So, when Dante had parted from a saved Fortuna, he had promised Nero to see each other again. But Dante needed time. Time and space for himself.

After the initial hope, all the regrets had set in. Why he hadn't been strong enough to protect Vergil. To find him sooner. To save him from whatever fate his brother had endured over the years of their separation.

He could still see him fall into the depth. That would have been the moment to save his brother. To snatch him by the wrist and knock some sense into him. To drag him back home.

Home.

Home is where the heart is and for Dante it held more truth than anyone. He had a home, but as much as he tried, he never felt truly at home, always missing his side of the heart, that had fallen into the depth alongside Vergil.

With leaving Fortuna, yet another big chunk had been ripped out of it. Somehow it had stayed with Nero, who had suffered for them a long time. And Dante had shown up like a hero, only adding to the boys already miserable life, and helped letting it spiral into hell on earth no less.

He felt responsible, yet hadn't been able to look him in the eye, out of fear what he might had come face to face with. Or might not. He made himself believe, Nero was safe as long as he had Vergil and Yamato to watch over him.

But not before long, Dante had kept his promise to Nero. And so much more.

After leaving Fortuna, he and the ladies had set out on a quest to finally gain the knowledge of the devil arms origin.

And they had found it faster than anticipated.

They found it In the oldest anthology existing between the worlds. It was nothing but a single room, but big enough to hold a library. It could be moulded into any shape and form, shrink and expand at will of it's sole owner. It was a treasure hoard of obscure rarities, not fit for the human world to deal with. It's inhabitant had always a good acquaintance from long ago, along with the Keeper he and Vergil had met so long ago, it felt like a complete detached and different life.

Even after all those past years, they had not seen each other, but the spark of an unbroken and deep friendship ignited once more.

Both had vanished after Temen-ni-gru. But after they had accomplished, what they had ventured out to do, Dante met them again.

Danzig always had exquisite timing and never tired of letting everyone know. So, Dante came to him with what he had learned and told him the whole story of him and Vergil. And Nero.

Danzig listened intently and grew more curious by the second. He immediately instructed the devil hunter to summon young Nero to Capulet City and that he should bring Yamato.

On Nero's end, things didn't go as well at all. After he had to bury Kyrie next to her brother's forever empty grave, the pain had become unbearable. His endurance had been rendered faulty by the draining presence of the vicious devil inside.

The Order had been obliterated and people viewed him with more suspicion than before, if that would have been even possible. Every look stung and pierced right through his weakened frame from anew and the last just hurt as much as the first. He stopped going outside altogether. He slept in a defiled heap on the kitchen floor, which was littered with trash, because he simply couldn't come up with a single reason as to why he should get up anymore.

Nero had suffered in all the dark and mortifying glory, it would provide to him. And in his twisted mind, driven to edge of insanity, he had believed he deserved every ounce of the heavy weight that crushed his heart in a deadly grip. And Vergil inside suffered with him. Over and over again.

Maybe it had been a mistake to leave Yamato with him, for the influence from the one inside the sword, had proven to become unbearable for Nero and it had been close to do severe damage to his soul.

Sharing the mind and body with something of this nature, turned out to be nothing less then a slow descent into madness. On both accounts. Vergil had been trapped for ages, first under Mundus in hell, who effectively had bound Vergil to Yamato, degrading the prideful devil into a mindless weapon and he had taken a sick pleasure in making him fight his own blood. Yet, after being freed from those reign his defeated soul had retreated into the sword only to be resurfaced by The Order and yet again bind him to another. And Vergil, awoken and shaken by this discovery refused with all his might.

And Nero had felt it slowly creeping up on him as his body had been threatened to get taken over by the entity, much too strong for one sword and one mind, and it had wanted out. And the voice, that never had stopped telling him of all the despicable things he had to do under Mundus, pressed him to evolve into a true devil and have a taste for himself. To shred the people who despised and hurt him so much. To slaughter them and make every last one of them pay dearly.

It had echoed at first as a commendable whisper in his soul. But it had been not long before he heard thedevil inside him raging in all his frenzied glory and mind frayed at the ends, to be freed. To become stronger than before. To get more power or else the devil would crush everything and everyone in their path, leaving Nero only as impassive bystander if he should not heed his command.

Nero, afraid to completely loose control, had departed from Fortuna, knowing full well he would turn into a menace eventually. He couldn't trust himself any longer around people. He had become a danger to every last one coming to close to him. He too wasn't the same anymore after all that had happened and he feared he never would be.

Without Credo and Kyrie, Fortuna had become nothing more than any other town. Empty and devoid of value for the broken heart, wishing deeply to be fixed and made whole again, yet knowing and despairing at the thought of the impossible goal never to be achieved.

And when Dante met with Danzig, a lost and degrading Nero happened to almost have arrived on his doorstep. A depressed and lonely kid who wanted nothing more than to feel that hand on his shoulder once more, craving for touch that did not hurt his body. Someone, who would tell him it would be alright someday. And in the back of his mind Vergil kept nagging on him forever a day, but when Dante came into view, it changed from menace and carnage to vast sadness and fear.

Danzig showed much concern for Nero's symptoms and developed a procedure to separate Vergil from his unintentional host.

No one could exactly had predicted the outcome, but between all that assessing and planning, Vergil's devil would threaten to rip Nero apart emotionally and physically, if they planned to transfer his beaten, battered and endlessly tortured mind back into the sword.

So they had established, they would need a human sacrifice. A decent human shell fit for Vergil to overtake. And in all his years, Dante never had deemed himself capable of killing a single human being. So Dante objected, knowing he denied his brother the only possibility. But, he wouldn't bring Vergil back by taking another life, fearing for the unknown effect in kiiling someone for the sake of his brother alone, which would have peaked in selfishness, Dante held no respect for, and he wouldn't want Vergil's existence would be tainted with coming back to life on account of that feeling forever.

Dante wouldn't allow it.

Nero's ongoing torture by Vergil though had ended the argument between student and mentor fairly quick. And Danzig had come up with the ultimate solution. And it was genius, for it would actually take two items, which they already had.

Vergil needed to stay a devil arm. The problem was, that he had never been fully subdued and his will had been too strong for the ritual to be concluded forcefully and inflict damage to his already weakened soul that would not be undone.

He would have to accept his fate, if he wanted to stay who he was. His strength wouldn't falter, but he would forever be cursed by this. Bound to Yamato and bound to an owner, who needed to defeat him in battle. A real fight of life and death no less or the incantation wouldn't trigger at all.

Only then he could truly find peace and still exist and take form whenever he liked. With the only difference, that he would not have a human body anymore.

The night after Danzig's revelation, Nero was fast asleep. And Vergil took the opportunity to summon his remaining strength to overtake Nero's body and even briefly appearing as his old self.

He visited Dante and they talked for the night. No one found out what was spoken, but it concluded in two brothers, reunited for good. Vergil told Dante his story. What he had done and why. He laid himself in front of his brother. Knowing, if the ritual would not go as planned, he would fade forever. So, this was practically his last chance.

The ritual was performed under Danzig's supervision and after days of uttering words in languages forgotten or voices harsh and violent enough for human ears and minds to make them suffer severe physical damage, it was completed.

To their utter surprise, Nero came out unharmed and seemingly unchanged. It would appear the bond between Yamato, Vergil and Nero had been stronger than anyone thought and the raging devil of Vergil was kept in check during the process. But after all, deep down they shared the same feelings and were indeed similar to each other.

Nero shared Vergil's guilt and hurt. He was the one to truly see and understand what was deep inside. Now Vergil seemingly had two brothers. One by blood and one by heart. A heart he longer owned, but still could feel the faint compassion to everything of what Nero had to endure. And it reminded him of hi sown past. They had been so young and so innocent. And Nero too was innocent and shouldn't have suffered as much as he did. He deserved far better.

Ultimately, the brothers had to fight one last time after the ritual and his defeat bound Vergil permanently to Yamato and his existence was cured and reinstated to it's full extent. Vergil still was Vergil. And the bond the twins shared became stronger than ever with the established link of master and weapon.

It is said, twins could feel what the other had experienced. Danzig had half joked, how it was actually profitable to the ritual, that they shared the same kin. The same blood. The link would not break unless they wanted it to. But that couldn't be an option, for as long as Vergil wasn't provided with a new body. And even then, it would pose a great risk, because hell knew every single one of their former inhabitants. And it never forgets nor let it dues be unpaid. The only thing that protected Vergil's soul was Dante. Because Vergil's soul was his and his alone to command.

Nero eventually asked Dante to be allowed to stay, because he saw the purpose behind Dante's doing and offered his powers to help and because beyond the doors of the Devil May Cry, Nero knew nothing of the world. His only constant had shrunk down to two person alone, who tool pity in Nero's fate and provided him with not two, but four hands to get back to his feet. Naturally, Vergil stayed with his brother, as well. So the family had grown yet again.

There still was one or the other bump down the winding road to grow into the tight knit hunter family they would eventually become, but Trish, who could of course relate very much and especially Lady were convinced by Dante, how the circumstances had changed them all.

How Dante and Vergil fit perfectly together like the two sides of the amulet.

And the two brothers made a promise to each other, that it would last until the end of time.

The same link had been formed between them and Nero,because of the power that had been used to alter him into a hybrid as well. Making him one of the Sparda family, by heart and will.

So, in the dark and destroyed room, Dante could only sit and wait, providing the stability, Nero's dithering devil needed to calm down and comfort him with his silent radiating warmth for as long as it would take.


	11. mirror, mirror on the wall - pt I

Mirror, mirror on the wall Pt. I

* * *

"Kid..." Dante sighed after a while of silence, the sniffing didn't last long. The room was dark and he could hear every faint heartbeat in the house, except of course for Vergil's. But he knew, his brother was still with Devon in the kitchen. Curious.

"Nero." Dante started again, his shoulder tentatively rubbing against the younger man's, who's head still hung low, watching the pulsing light of his arm. Dante glanced sideways, enough to catch the despising look towards the glow, which indicated his strong presence. Nero didn't lift his head, though his heartbeat had calmed down to match all the others beyond the naked walls of Nero's bedroom.

"You can't keep doing this." Dante's open palm closed into a tight first, pointing his index finger at Nero, as he sighed. "You just can't. Your mood swings are a danger, for yourself. For others." His voice dropped at the last words, reminding Nero of the fragile human in the house. "You have to control yourself." Dante's voice was close to a hoarse whisper by now. Deep and grave.

At this Nero immediately scoffed.

Finally, a reaction. Not the one Dante would have wanted, but he'd take it nonetheless. He shrugged, as they made eye contact. Dante's was expression stern and unwavering, continuing without so much as a change to accommodate his seriousness. "What if you would trigger? What if it wouldn't have been me, but someone else entering the room?"

Nero's eyes narrowed, then closed and creased, as he let out a taunting chuckle. Oh, this was too ridiculous. Dante's clueless remark made him want to guffaw his heart out at him.

The older devil felt uneasy under the sound, the pit of his stomach twirling, as he viewed his opposite in bewilderment.

Nero wiped his face and the grin off with the back of his human hand. "As if." He spat the words out as if they had a bad taste. He then nodded, more to himself than to Dante and stood up, widening is arms. And Dante was afraid he finally had succumbed to his devil and snapped.

"As if I could hurt her. Or hurt anybody for that matter." He stretched his devil bringer out, palm turned upwards. "This magic glow stick couldn't hurt a damn fly." He laughed again, shaking his head at Dante, but eyes fixed on the ceiling. "I couldn't trigger if I wanted to!" His deep voice boomed. So sudden, that Dante flinched visibly at the abrupt change of volume. It hit him like a splash of burning acid to the face. The spite in Nero's voice was as painful as it could get.

But Nero looked pretty pleased with himself, sneering at his arm. There. He said it. The one thing, he never wanted to admit to anybody, let alone himself. But it had weighed on his him and inside him for quite a time, and hurling it at the by now fairly perplexed Dante in a more than defying matter felt surprisingly good.

"I CAN'T!" His voice cracked with the harsh outburst.

Dante jumped to his feet, invading Nero's personal space quick and intense, planting a firm, scorching hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard enough so the younger one thought it might pulverize his collarbone. Nero winced, But Dante's sturdy frame didn't falter much at Nero's pain, nor did his narrowed eyes. Dante fixed him with a piercing glare, and then gave him a shove to which Nero stumbled backwards and almost fell on his butt.

Dante turned entirely, willing his agitation back, calming his rage for keeping such a secret for way too long from him. Did Vergil knew of this? If so... But on second thought, he doubted it. His brother would have told him, because they had to be able to rely on each other. They had to know exactly what the other was capable of in term of strength, especially when it came to hunting demons together. Him and Vergil were practically an item, but with Nero, it was something each had still to fully ingest, and a secret like this was far from giving them any opportunity to fully trust each other. God, this stung more than Dante would have known.

And it simply was not acceptable, no matter from how he looked at it, wasn't it? Nero had gone too far. Dante's patience was at it's end with the boy.

He didn't look as he addressed Nero with a calm, but forced voice. "Why did you not tell me?" He heard fidgeting and rustling, knowing Nero he was probably ruffling his hair or fiddling with his clothes, like he always did when he was nervous. This gave Dante even more fuel to fire his deep anger. Nero's fidgety behavior was like an indicator to how he might had spilled the beans only involuntarily. Dante's knuckles turned white as he balled his fists.

"Explain. Now." The edge to the half bloods voice made Nero's jaw tight and his whole body tense. The looming presence, teetering on the edge of self control wormed it's way straight into his human heart. The calm demand did nothing to smooth the bordering fear the pressure made his knees nearly buckle.

"I'm waiting, kid." Dante felt the eyes on his back and he smelled the dread from the boy. Dante's inner devil growled in satisfaction to the crumbling resolve, like an ancient brickwall which broke apart by the tremor underneath it and heavily collapsed into a pile of worthless dirt. And that was what Nero felt like at this exact moment and under Dante's red hot anger, calmly sifting through every cracked line of his skin.

But Dante's restrain willed the surfacing menace back to where it belonged. He wasn't here to frightnen Nero and put him down more, than he himself did. Still, Dante couldn't shake the feeling of being hurt either.

Nero's shoulders sagged and a long shaky sigh broke from his dry throat. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me." Dante warned. "It's not what I want to hear from you. It doesn't mean anything."

Those words pierced right through Nero's heart. Did Dante hate him for keeping this from him?

"I...I was afraid, okay?" He confessed in a small voice.

"Of what?" Dante sounded as cold and indifferent as Vergil. Which hurt even more.

"Of how you would have treated me." Nero had backed up to the wall behind him, looking for any leverage to serve his body from crumbling at the distant hybrid, he'd known for his heartwarming demeanor, which he had needed more than he had ever known. So, staring at his tense back and hearing him talk with a gut wrenching, unemotional voice, could not have agonized him more. He'd take a sword to the chest any time in favor of not hearing it from Dante ever again.

But he had it coming. He knew it was vital. He knew it was a question io trust. And he, who had been betrayed by so many, should have known better as to do the very same to the one who had cared for him the most the past year.

Nero's heart was ground to a bloody pulp between regret, heavy as a boulder and a tower of dread, shaped liked the huge frame in front of him.

And that was what Dante could feel and it helped him calm down wholly, as well. The sadness coming off of Nero quickly penetrated the sturdy layer around Dante. "Just get out of here." He said in a deflated tone. It pained him to not have Nero's full trust upon all the support he had offered the boy, when no one else had done so. He surely deserved better than this.

Nero's head snapped up, mislead by the wording, assuming that he was thrown out of the shop for good. A plea formed on his lips, not wanting to leave the man, who became very much the center of his life. And didn't he help Nero out and saved his life in more than one way? He would not throw him out, would he? His voice quivered when he spoke. "Dante...Please..."

But the devil strode towards the door, opened it with a jerky movement of his usually so steady aim and hand, but before he stepped through he halted, his back straight and voice firm. Nero's shock and guilt hung pungent in the air and was glued onto his tongue in a taste of bitter smoke. And Dante hated it from the deepest corner of his heart.

"You will plant your ass on the couch below and not move until I tell you to. I have enough to deal with than your childish antics, Nero."

When the boy didn't move and just stared with a gaping mouth, Dante turned. "Now." And to his own surprise, Nero did. He pushed himself off the wall, eagerly to get away from him. As he brushed past Dante with quick, but uneven strides, he felt the jolt of electricity from the older man, silently daring him to disobey his orders. Nero's heart was beating in his throat as he made his way down and did what he was told to.

To his surprise, he had to join Devon, who looked pretty much comfy on the big, cozy furniture and his eyes fell upon the blanket she had draped over herself and and the cup of tea on the small side table. His brow furrowed. He knew the blanket. It was Vergil's. And the tea, he knew instantly when the familiar smell of jasmine hit his flaring nostrils, was Vergil's favorite. His mind reeled and did a swift 180.

He certainly had missed something vital, he thought as he sat down at the opposite end of the leather couch. Not as comfortable and sluggish as one might have assumed him to, yet. No, he was still tense to the bone, guessing Dante would have him stew in his own juices for a while, until he would dish out his punishment.

Nero rubbed his tired eyes. He had fucked it up.

"What's wrong?" Devon's concerned voice ripped him from his thoughts, but he tried to give her grin, but it turned out utterly awkward and was something in between baring his teeth and a sad smile. He puffed his cheeks out and released his breath through pursed lips, while looking utterly defeated. He was simply to tired to act out like nothing had happened

Devon caught up quickly on his grim mood, but still gave him a weak smile herself. "That good?" She asked wryly and he shrugged halfheartedly, not really wanting to talk about. Instead he shifted his focus towards the TV. "Mind if I switch that on?"

"No. Not at all." It was his house home after all. Nero sank into the cozy soft leather, seemingly relaxed and thankful to have something occupy his mind, that didn't spell devil or angel for once. But after a few minutes of relentless switching through all channels, his eyes strayed over to her. She sat there, huddled in that soft, midnight blue blanket, he still wondered where she got it from. He did not know, that the answer was busy in the kitchen, since Nero had abandoned his kitchen duty, and tried meticulously to fix dinner for the rest of the household.

So, after bouncing back and forth ideas of how to discover the mystery behind the blanket, he opted for his usual blatant straight forward assault. What harm could it do, anyway? "That's Vergil's, right?"

Devon had chewed on the inside of her cheek, enthralled by the huge TV in front of her and didn't hear him over her own awe at the movie, that was running across the screen, big enough to make her feel even smaller than she already did.

"Huh?" Her eyes briefly strayed to his slouched form. His messy hair in his eyes, which he clearly didn't bother about. The white came out even better with the fluorescent light from the TV. God, how could it be so white, and shiny and soft looking all at once?

"The blanket?" He tried again, her stare hitting him square to the stomach, twisting it with an unknown feeling. Nero already had ventured, it might be the presence within her, according to the twins who had experienced a different, yet still likely effect. His arm grew warm, and he half turned to her and hid it behind him.

"Oh yes." Her hand stroked it a few times, relishing in the soft feel. "You were right." Devon stated matter-of-factly And Nero gave her puzzled look. "Of course you would be. Since you know him good enough at all..." God, she was rambling, wasn't she?

Nero could only grin at her. Was she...nervous? It sure seemed that way, how she avoided to look him straight in the face and instead concentrated on her ever busy fingers. "Who?" He asked like he didn't know, what she was talking about.

"Vergil." She huffed, having to say his name out loud. "He seems nicer, than before, I mean. Not he was mean, just you know, protective of some sort..." Devon snapped her mouth shut. She was rambling yet again, and wanted to bite her tongue of at this. Eyes fixed on the blanket, her fingers pointed to where it covered her knees and thighs. "He gave me this. Even made me tea..."

Nero did a double take at that. "Did he now?" This was interesting. Devon nodded, smile growing wider, when she finally lifted her head to see his amused expression, as he stopped flipping channels to regard her fully. Big blue eyes was all she could see for a second. Her mind refused to see anything else.

"So, I guess, he is a decent guy." Oh, this was precious. And she totally forgot about the super human hearing. Nero knew, Vergil was close by, straining himself to sense the faint presence by now. And he knew, that he heard every single word.

"Told you so." He replied still grinning, wishing he could see the older twins face and reaction to this. Well, it was a good thing, wasn't it?

"And Dante said I am allowed to stay. Since I don't have anywhere to go anyway...And..." He voice became quiet, and even cracked.

Nero finally scooted over a bit, his earlier rage and shame utterly forgotten. He had been sure, that Dante wouldn't let her leave again. Especially with that handicap and her other circumstances, meaning the angel business and homeless thing.

He awkwardly patted the spot where he assumed her feet where. "It's okay. Nothing's gonna happen to you. Promise."

Devon wiped her nose, and willed back those awful tears, threatening to spill every fucking time. She wouldn't cry again. It was pointless, whether it were happy or sad tears. No more, she chastised herself mentally, but his gesture was too cute in all it's clumsiness to ignore either.

"I know." Devon confirmed him in his endeavor to make her feel better and exhaled a deep breath, forcing her eye to zero in on him. "I know." But it wasn't alone the effort of the three men that eased her inside, but the warm fuzzy feeling Pesh seemed to exude, whenever she felt a touch lately, or just a friendly word or gesture. He was there and enjoying it in his innocent way, that made her tears spill for him, or so she assumed.

"So, what are we gonna watch." A few deep breaths later, Devon gave away nothing anymore, of this slight hope she allowed herself to feel, to not expose herself to much to the young man next to her who started to switch channels again. Nero huffed at the bad program, until finally a movie flickered across the screen he hadn't seen in years.

"Oh, you gotta watch this." He sounded excited and happy, while grinning madly from ear to ear. Now there was a sudden change of mood, if she ever had seen one. Quite remarkable. He was almost as good at this as she was.

Devon observed the screen. A young Asian man moved across the screen, apparently getting drunk on something, then with strange movement started to whoop the asses of another man. Devon furrowed her brows at his burps of bubbles and jerky fighting style, utilizing all his limbs in a quite unusual way.

Oh.

This was supposed to be funny. The light tone of the movie finally registered in her brain.

"It's a classic. A martial art comedy called Drunken Master." Nero explained, eyes briefly flickering between her mild smile and the TV.

Devon chuckled. "Okay. I see. But what's he drinking?" She asked, motioning at the wooden bamboo bottle.

"Uh, sake, I guess. Heard it's really mean." He actually heard it from Vergil. "And, it's supposed be warm." The older twin had a lot of this kind of seemingly useless information stored away in that big brain of his. And Nero never tired of hearing all of it.

Devon made a funny, choking noise in the back of her throat. "That sounds completely disgusting to be honest. You ever tried?"

Nero rubbed his nose and shook his head. He was more of a coke and whiskey guy, which he learned through Dante a few quite memorable times. And he could hold his liquor quite well, which he had also learned with the devil hunter, saying it was because of their demon blood. He'd down two bottles and not so much but feel a tingle and pleasurable warmth to the cheeks. Not to mention had been eager to find out exactly the amount to have Nero dwindling into a drunken, highly amusing, stupor. At five, they both had lost the ability to count.

"Uh, no. Not yet. But I might. Vergil thinks it's actually good. And when he says it, it's gotta be true." Nero praised the older hunter to the very heavens, not intentionally, but Devon could hear the admiration in his voice and see it in his face, when she stole a glance and had to grin.

He was focused on the scene on the screen anyway and either didn't seem to notice or simply didn't mind and Devon went back to watch as well. If he liked it, it must be a good movie. Because her opinion of Nero was just as high as his was of the older twin. Nero was a remarkable individual himself in her eyes, though he might not even knew it.

A commotion could be heard from upstairs, making both their heads swivel around. Then they heard a loud voice drone, which they easily recognized as Death's. He sounded not so pleased. "Hunter. What are you doing? Is this the time to fool around?"

"The only time!" Came the flippant reply and with it Dante appeared on top of the staircase. A black, chalk board in his hands. It was quite large and hid most of his impressive figure behind it. Devon blinked, brows furrowed, until she heard a low groan next to her. Nero had turned and hid his face in his large hand. His devil bringer though, was securely tugged into his lap, glowing brightly, like it glaring at Dante, who seemed to have found his sense humor again and was ready to deal with the younger hunter.

Nero, from his end of the stick couldn't believe it. But when Dante came over, impressively towering above him, he watched through his fingers with slight dread. Not now, his eyes seemed to plead, but Dante was far from acknowledging it with more than a dismissive grunt. The lesson was about to start. Embarrassing or not, Dante could care less.

"What's that?" Devon inquired, two curious eyes fixed on the board for a moment before watching Dante's face split into an unsettling grin. It wasn't a happy one, that much was certain. And Devon felt sorry for asking and pulling his attention towards her in the first place.

"See this?" Dante addressed Nero without any explanation, or indication, that it was a foreign matter to the young man and his reaction pretty much had confirmed it to Devon, that he knew exactly what this was about.

Nero clenched his jaw, but said nothing. Eyes however burned with a blue flame he couldn't fix to die down, he took a gander at Devon, before he glared back at the hunter. Oh, he wanted her leave, but Dante would not heed Nero's silent plea. Fat chance, his expression spelled as he gave Nero a satisfied once over. The wooden board ached under his tight hold.

"Since you opted for a rather immature display of an agnry fit and kept this one impostant thing from me, you will have to face the consequences of your actions. So, Iittle buddy here will take care of that. What do you think? How much does it up the count?"

His tone was spiteful, mocking Nero's actions from before. "Three? Four?" Dante stroked his chin for good measure.

He sat the thing to rest against the table and slowly walked up and down in front of two flabbergasted individuals. He snapped his fingers, turning gracefully on his heels, catching Nero's accusing eyes. "I know! Let's make it ten. It was a solid ten, no? Or, maybe yet, a twenty. That sound's good. " His voice was loud and stern as he announced something, that made not the slightest sense to Devon. "I think that's a new record. Good one." Dante restrained himself from applauding, nonetheless the burning sarcasm hit it's mark just as spot on as the pat Nero received to his head.

Nero's mouth hung open at him as he jerked his head away from Dante's touch, before spluttering indignantly with a slack expression. "Are you for real?" Devon noted, that to Nero it made enough sense to raise his voice. He looked shocked.

Devon was painfully clueless, and barely kept herself from yelling, at what the hell was going on with them. A shadow moved in the corner of her eye and it distracted her for a second and her mouth snapped shut. She saw Vergil had appeared to lean against the door frame of the kitchen. Arms crossed over his chest, looking...amused?

So this was not serious? Could have fooled her.

Dante regarded Vergil for a second, who only gave a single nod. He apparently knew as well what this was about.

Damn it all. Why was she the odd one out and no one bothered to even clarify this stupidity to her? Devon's eyes traveled from Vergil back to Dante, expression growing disgruntled at this particular thought.

"Alright, with that out of the way..." Dante read Vergil's approval right, guessing he was save to get on with the punishment.

Nero did a sharp intake of air, puffing his chest out, wanting to argue so badly, but Dante held his hand up, one finger, pointing at the board. "You brought this upon yourself, kid. I advice you to take your punishment like a man and keep your mouth shut. When you really think about it, I let you away pretty easy. You know your behavior is not acceptable. And Vergil here..." He did a flourish towards his brother, who came over in slow deliberate steps. "...will beat it into your head. Time and time again, if he must."

Well, the count said it was yet twice, but Nero knew the dangers of it becoming far more, if he would speak up now. Dante and his voice made it clear to him, it made him vibrate all over with the veiled danger looming under the surface still, like before upstairs. No, despite making it look like a game, Nero was aware the hunter had enough. And he felt the shame and the guilt weighing down on his broad shoulders, not knowing if he could take anymore of it.

And it was embarrassing to be chastised like a school boy in front of Devon. His ears were burning brightly under his hair. But the anger still bubbled up with it. Though this time, his control had a firm grip on that one too. Or so he hoped. His bringer nonetheless didn't cease to burn and light the space closest around him, even leaving a slight sheen on Devon's face.

The woman still stared, feeling the serious and foreboding thread exuding off the red hunters frame. The light tone was gone, wiped away with one single whip of his huge hand. Vergil had taken up the spot next to him, staring them both down equally.

"You at least gonna tell me when?" Nero asked quietly, looking up at Vergil this time. "You wish." The older twin replied nonchalantly, receiving a pat to his upper arm from his brother in return.

Nero slumped back, not even trying to hide his disappoint any more. He would yet again have to face it whenever he least expected it. Like early in the morning, being pulled out of bed to land flat on his drowsy face, which had happened quite a few times.

"You wanna have the honors?" Dante asked Vergil, a slight mischievous glint in his eyes. The older twin flexed his muscled arm, seeming equally playful at this point. Devon's gazed tattered back and forth between the twins, not knowing what exactly to anticipate.

She jolted wide awake on the appearance of a bright blue flash, forming a blue blade. "Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed, without thinking, pressing herself into the back of the couch. Nero now openly scoffed at the raw and senseless display of Vergil's powers. "Dude. You're scaring her."

Vergil twirled that damn blade around his index finger, giving Devon a once over. "Oh this? Nothing to worry about." Indifferent voice, narrowed eyes. Vergil just acted like he knew what this was all about. Apparently Nero had submitted a great error and let Dante have his way to instill this sort of punishment. Vergil played it off easily, knowing and trusting his brother's judgment enough to just roll with it. But somehow he already knew and had guessed a long time ago, that the boy was hiding a few things still. Well, seemed like not anymore. Dante though was indeed pissed, holding himself together remarkably well, because Vergil could sense the rage deep inside, his own devil trying to get in tune with his twin's, which Vergil had to keep from happening himself. He just hoped this was soon over. He hated it when Dante was angry. It was agitating him more than anything else was capable of putting this kind of stress on him, more like he wanted to admit.

Vergil focused on his the small blade instead and in swift motions, to fast for the single human eye in the room, his blue weapon left ten straight marks on the already beaten and battered surface of the chalk board. Nero's name appeared on top as well. "Ten it is."

It all looked like magic to Devon, and the woman was tantalized by the actions of the twin. Fear forgotten, her face contorted into a look of straight awe. She looked at Nero, finger pointing at Vergil, then at Dante, sticking her arm out, frantically motioning at the blue blade. "What the?"

Nero pursed his lips and Dante grinned stupidly. "Neat, right?" To which Nero gave his best sour look, but remained silent and opted to chew on the inside of his cheek, keeping him from biting his tongue and swallow the curses that threatened to spill. He missed the swords, but wouldn't give Vergil the courtesy and applaud this childish showoff either. And the fact that Vergil could alter their appearance, shape and size at will, added to his overall irritation, kneading his insides with envious hands.

Damn him. And his powers.

Vergil let the blade embed itself next to Nero's name like a vibrant exclamation mark, before it finally dissolved in a burst of white hissing smoke and glittering shards like dry ice.

Dante shifted hi sattention to rest his eyes solely on Devon . "Now for you." His voice didn't soften much and Devon's heart started pounding agaisnt her ribcage.

Her suspicious eyes stared back at him, letting the corner of his mouth twitch slightly. "Some ground rules, since you're going to stay too." His stance was straight and Devon felt the telltale tingle of raw power on her spine, which wasn't pleasant at all. She hardened herself against it nonetheless. "You're not permitted to leave the house on your own accord."

Devon leaned forward, eyes wide, not believing her ears. "What did I do?!" Clearly not seeing, when she had committed an error so grave as to deserve this, her voice even dared to raise with the exclaimed question.

Dante clicked his tongue, holding his hand out, silencing her immediately and her face went slack. "If you behave like a child, you are treated as one." He wouldn't tell her, that since she came back, he couldn't sense her anymore. Her heartbeat and anything else human was veiled under a bubble of nothing. It was strange and didn't sit well with him. And he knew, Vergil would be aware of it either, which concluded that no one would be able to track her down, if she'd ever pull a stunt like that again.

Devon seethed at him, but to no avail. The icy stare let her burning stomach acid freeze over.

Dante didn't think to clarify, because she damn well knew why. "It's the only rule. You wanna stay? Then take this advice. You will listen to us. Me and Verge for that matter, since we seem to be the only ones with enough common sense to handle situations when they arise." The weighty air of authority that came with his words hit Devon straight in the guts. How he was doing it, was all she could think about. That crushing look, only Vergil had given her so far, held her gaze in a tight lock. Her heart pounded. Out of anger, out of guilt or shame? Devon wasn't too sure. It only left her speechless, though she managed a slow nod, before Dante let her lower her head.

"Good."

Nothing more to say, Dante turned to Vergil. "Come with me for a sec." And Dante lead them upstairs and Nero and Devon to their own vices.

The atmosphere cleared of the low hanging cloud of older devil fumes. And they both felt their heartbeats return to normal and the tension ease away. Devon regarded the board. "Care to elaborate?" She asked amused, despite what just had happened. Strange how the absence of the twins had lightened up the mood. And for she knew, they meant well. And she could the reason. She did after all act idiotic, even in her eyes. She was thankful he didn't dive into the topic any further than had been necessary. It still stung and reeled in the back of her mind. Feeling so surreal and very tangible all the same, when seeing, that her vision was still halved. And it wouldn't get better for certain. She gritted her teeth and shoved this unpleasant thought right into the darkest corner of her mind, where it could sit and sulk by itself. She wouldn't let it resurface for now.

Nero wanted to give the chart of shame a profound kick, but caught his foot in the last moment, knowing it would obliterate the poor wood. And he would have to face another of Dante's speeches. Or worse, Vergil's take on how to deal with his antics, which wasn't words but painful actions.

He gave the board his best scowl, before Devon patted his arm. "You okay?"

Nero shrugged at that and simply went on to clarify, for what good it would do he didn't know. "Dante calls it the shame game." He informed her with a chuckle, because she looked at him like they were all crazy, which maybe wasn't even too far off from the truth. It must look very unconditional to a normal person. Not that she was anything but normal, but clearly not that much affected by it, than he first believed her to be. Somehow, Nero admired her for it. For she could act like the most human person in the vicinity. And maybe she was, only harboring that angelic soul, which he had felt warm and glowing when he had watched over her sleep the other night.

One thing was certain, it helped him to calm down. And this strange need to be close, he blamed the heavenly creature inside her for it. But the urge he felt, to only get a single fraction of that soothing feeling, was dangerous and overpowering in itself. Just another thing he didn't need upon his pile of dirt, he consequently seemed to find himself in.

"I guess I brought this on myself." He mused in defeat, before he stood and grabbed the board, still managing to resist his first and foremost impulse to hurl it at the bar, wanting to hear the noises of the crash so badly. But he only huffed and used his human hand to carry it over to place it next to the jukebox, where it could glow in silence and, rivaled by the blinking lights of said device, not pull his attention towards it everytime he would enter the room.

Devon watched him, hesitating for a second, but her mouth opened of it's own accord. "What...did you do?"

Nero turned and walked back over, with his usual stride, those long legs allowed him to do. Devon saw his hips sway and swallowed, averting her eyes to not let the image burn into her head. Wow... Even when looking like a lost puppy, his demeanor acted still like the one of most self assured beings she'd ever came across. He was a force and sight to behold and hold your breath upon.

"I trashed my bedroom. " And when he said it, he couldn't help but laugh, plopping down next her again. "And my punishment is sparring with Vergil. Whenever he sees fit. Literally. Dead of the night, morning, dinner. It's not as funny as it sounds." He gave her a feigned annoyed look, masking his true anger still.

"Oh." Devon blinked a few times at him. For as mellow, as he appeared to be, this action was a new facet to him nonetheless. A startling one at that. What got him so angry to do something like that? On a second note, maybe she'd rather not know. Must have been big, to rile him up from the kind and good spirited exterior he had shown her in that short time they had known each other. "That indeed sounds bad."

"Oh, you have no idea." He threw his arm over the backrest, as he turned on his spot to face Devon. "And what did you do?"

Devon shot him an incredulous look. Like for real? She grabbed a cushion, starting to knead it in her lap, needing to drown out the feeling his scrutinizing eyes called forth. "Me?" She asked to buy some time and fix her face into her usual polite looking state. "I died, remember?"

Now it was on Nero to look incredulous. His brows raised at her, but a small grin appeared as soon as she laughed at her own blatant statement. It truly was getting easier every time she said it.

"Right." He replied with a smirk.

"Right." She repeated, bursting into that laughter, she so desperately needed, to conceal the fact of the unbelievable things that happened to her. It was quite comical. What a pair of idiots they were. It was not lost on Nero. And the way Dante had played it like an older brother or father? To apparently protect them from this stupid kind of behavior was even more funny, when they both gave it a second thought. The sound of laughter cleared out the rest of the initial sullen feeling and they relaxed into their respective spots. It was kind of curing. And Nero liked, how he could laugh at it as heartily as she could. As ridiculous and even severe as it seemed.

His admiration grew yet again. Laughing fate in the face? He kinda liked it.

* * *

Dante stared at the mirror, fingers barely touching the dark surface. It was one of the mirrors from Mallet Island, Vergil had been send through to kill him, and it was currently residing in his bedroom. Oh the irony, Mundus would have ahted it and that thought was amusing him to no end. He did not know which one it exactly was and it didn't even matter in the least anyway, or if the others where unscathed or had been destroyed along with the castle. The magic was still the same.

It had been a miracle all by itself, thatTrish had even managed to get her hands on this single one. And who knows if it was good or bad. Dante saw it for what it was and she apparently did to. It had been used to traverse between realms, but the magic had weakened with Mundus' defeat. Yet still it could be a powerful tool - with the right hand and adamantine will to lead it.

But even if one could still use it, they couldn't say where they would end up looking. And from where in Hell Vergil had come through, he didn't know either. He had almost no recollection of their fight on the island, and Dante felt it was better this way anyway. So he wouldn't dare to torment his brother with questions, he did not particularily needed the asnwers to. He would do without and take the small risk willingly.

They had to fight each other three too many times. And the less Vergil remembered, the better Dante could still look inot his eyes. And at himself for letting it happen in the first place. Vergil was putting enough blame on himself as it was. Dante wouldn't want him crumbling under it. Again. And eventually this incident didn't even matter, because it hadn't his free choice to fight his brother at that time.

Dante lightly shook his head, as to get rid of these painful thoughts of a brother thought lost for a long time. And the shock and aftermath of this revelation. By God, if he ever had received a wound so deep that it would hurt and bled profuesely, it had been on this very day. He could handle fighting Vergil at his peak and full conscience, but not as a redusced puppet devoid of everting that had made his brother the person he was. Vergil.

"That's the plan?" Death ripped the red hunter from his dark thoughts yet again. Dante wanted to bash his head against the wall to get his act together. But he conjured up a wide grin from nowhere instead.

"It's the best I got. If Danzig doesn't want to be found..." Here his gaze drifted from the pale rider to his brother next to him, and back, "...then you won't find him. At least not with normal methods." Trish and Lady had searched the whole city far and wide, with nothing of a trace left behind by his mentor. The abandoned building, Danzig used as space to place the entrance to his small realm on had vanished. The magic had been wiped away like a small speck of dirt thoroughly cleaned off a window until it blinked, it was gone. And Dante could only wonder about the dangers that let Danzig take on this course of action.

"Are we that desperate?" Whoa. Dante's head turned quickly, he simply hadn't anticipated Vergil's voice to sound so opposing to the idea all of a sudden.

Dante scratched the back of his neck. He wasn't in the mood for friendly brotherly banter right now. Not in the slightest. "Yes we are. You heard it, didn't you?"

"I forbid it." Scornful, unwavering eyes stared back at their equal.

The sheer delusional state and self assured tone agitated Dante more than it should. It wasn't his brothers choice. "I'm sorry Verge, but this time you won't get a say. It's critical as it is, and I totally agree we need him here with us. And that creepy vault of his.I can only sleep soundly, knwoing it's under our protection, and Danzig's." He jabbed his thump at Death, who glared at the sloppy gesture.

"Just hurry." The Rider gave of an impatient snarl, swatting the improper gesture of the devil hunters hand away like one did chase off a puny, annoying fly. Well, for the once who knew the rider enough, it was actually his normal voice, but it always sounded the way it it did. And only changed slightly between mildly amused, sarcastic or downright mean and threatening.

Yet, not taking it personal or serious, Dante only chuckled at him. "Leave it to me, big guy."

Vergil crossed the room from the door, where he had been standing to occupy his brother's side and take a gander at the mirror. The same dark energy, as faint as it was, still twirled under the glass, which reflected them, but it was way too dark to barely make out enough or if they were indeed staring at themselves. How Dante could sleep in this room with that thing, was beyond Vergil's comprehension. It practically bled hostily, gushing like an open wound, whenever eyes met reflection. Vergil looked away, head spinning slightly from the venomous, dark magic it gave off.

Vergil wished, he could change Dante's spur-of-the-moment decision, and the remark he got in return? it stung way too deep to let it slide. "Have you any idea, what happens when you don't use it properly? How do you wanna prevent anything from coming through once the energy flow is restored?"

Dante had to admit, his brother was of course right to worry to some extent, but he clearly underestimated his younger brother onthe other hand. Dante had have ten years. Ten years ahead of Vergil. Ten years to learn and master. To become so much more than a sword swinging, gun shooting loudmouth.

Oh, he still was, but the addition of the knowledge of Danzig's crafts was a portion he had not paraded around lest revealed more than necessary. Vergil would soon get a share of what Dante had truly learned all along those long years he spent alone and in company of the old lunatic with his grandiose nature. The mad trader with a taste for fancy, elegant clothes and an even more extravagant taste for fine spirits. And questionable powers, which no one knows the root of.

* * *

Danzig stalked through the ashen laden sands of the realm of the dead. The harsh winds, he weren't clearly used to and hated the second he set foot onto the land, let his tattered clothes swish and his ripped, black coat dance behind his back. The air tasted of nothing but sand and stale smoke of fires long burned out. This was bothering him the most. His nose was practically clogged with sand, but the smell still found a way through to bother him to no end.

His grey hair was pulled back into his fancied, sophisticated ponytail of grey hair, yet the gritty texture he could feel under his fingers, with pads rough from all his meticulous writing and keeping notes throughout the long ages he had resided in the human realm. A trader and keeper. A watcher from days of yore, yet not heralding from the realm of men he so intently and dedicated documented on.

Scrawny, ugly and faceless creatures adorned his path like little rats, scurrying back and forth to have a curious whiff of the man that didn't belong anywhere near and yet pranced along the sandy folds like he owned the place.

The attack was quick, however effortlessly interrupted by a mere flick of Danzig's long, bony finger. The few, lowly bred creatures, which truly dared to venture close enough to see those fervent eyes, caught on a treacherous fire, which burnt ferociously but slowly to melt their rotting flesh off the chalky bones, much like ice cream dripping of a cone on a warm summer day. The sands were stained with the grimy substance they left in their wake, dissolving into ashes after long last. The wails were snatched away by the traveling storm and reaching far and wide, like lonely desperate sirens calling in vein, warning every other creature to not wander his direction any longer and meet their fate, which prowled the lands of the dead on steady legs, not giving away any indication of the age his pale face showed with deep etched lines and wrinkled skin.

Danzig scaled the distance, but the land tried to trick his eyes the further he got, telling him he didn't get a mere inch onward and the Eternal Throne watched with sleepless eyes from still afar. Danzig grunted, pulling his coat tighter around his tall and skinny frame. If it would take days or weeks, it wasn't something he couldn't tell yet. There was no sun, no moon, no night. And even the everlasting day seemed like nothing but a mere absence of dark. No time to measure, only Danzig left to count his own heartbeat and keep walking on for what seemed like an eternity in this forsaken grounds and it's lifeless soil.

Danzig, feeling the weight of this realm, but still having the luxury of needing no rest or anything to sustain himself met the towering inhuman construction with indifferent eyes. The leviathans rested on the other side, presumably guarding the arena he had heard of from the one that Death had called the Crowfather, who was now the sole protector of the entrance to the Well of Souls. A spirit stuffed with knowledge ready to burst from his ghostly existence, keen eyes seeing right through him. And what Danzig had learned upon their unscripted meeting within the Tree of Life, had him walk away in a flurry of glum thoughts.

The Riders had left their realm, and Danzig had so wished to meet before they would set out to do whatever they had planned to do. Heaven was already in a determined uproar, feeling the full impact as startling effect of the dead Council like no other realm. Their blind obedience had cost them dearly. The vengeful angels with their now unveiled spite, had turned the tables quickly. The hell guard had been annihilated. Lostlight reportedly laid in ruins and the stone bled under their fierce battle, not that Danzig had ever intended to set foot upon the heavenly realm in the first place. He would have rather taken his chances in the demon realm and Hell then come anywhere near the kingdom and the White City itself.

The persevering White Guard were the watching eyes to ensure no one would get close without stating their business to a long golden lance o the tip of a silver blade. Over more, too proud were the immortal souls inhabiting the walls, that no one could lay siege upon the walls and not leave anything but a scratch on the marble stone surrounding it and standing high as the highest tower inside with their golden tip. A glittery beacon in the sun for everyone to see from afar at the outposts. Not that anyone had been left there to see it as of now. The city had been closed off and the never rotting corpse of their former leader Azrael adorned the white gate on the outside. Hanging there in shame like a grim reminder to those, that had followed the Council as blind as the dead eyes of the righteous angel, now dull forever. And this was the gravest news Danzig had to receive along with a burning sting to his heart, cursing Death and his companions to have left so impulsively and not see the city's leader first. This divine blood was on the Riders hands. And in Danzig's eyes, this was a sin they had committed willingly. He only hoped, the pale Rider had more than excruciatingly good answers to Danzig's questions. If they would ever meet again.

Free from their chains and commitment they were free to roam wherever they liked from that day forth. And their conquest for freedom had been consuming their youngest brother's mind for such a long time, Danzig's wasn't even half surprised when he had felt the Council fight for their existence and loosing rather gracelessly to the unbridled rage and need for vengeance. So much hate to have bred and grown inside the red rider, inevitably so, to have the Coucil meet their self-afflicted end, after the corruption had infested the former neutral party.

Oh, he knew how much Death loved his brother and felt forever compelled to ensure he would get whatever he asked for. Danzig almost laughed. Now where had he heard that story before...

Danzig couldn't approve of the method and blunt execution of the deed, but what had to be done, had been done, by the very same Riders, that had vowed to protect the balance and the realms from whatever, with an oath no one would dare to break. Concerning the Charred Council, appointed by the creator himself as the universe had been young, even by their own standards, they had only carried out their roles. And to this, Danzig had to admit, they seem to knwo perfectly where their loyalties lie and with the betrayal on War, they had sealed their very fate. For the better or worse. But Danzig doubted, that corruption could have been driven out of a living Council to begin with.

But what was the worth of an oath now, if there was no one to pledge their loyalty to but themselves? Death was a wise leader, but still Danzig couldn't help but feel worried if their freedom wouldn't send them on rampage of misguided righteousness. Duties always came first, own needs second, but they would yet have to find out what would be left to protect without the wide reach of the Council and the tight net of watchers now nonexistent. A task, Danzig had acknowledged as soon as the Council fell. And he had grabbed the ugliest and oldest clothes he could find in his home, venturing out with no hesitation only to find himself devoid of the Riders presence in a realm yet not devoid of any control. Someone still held the invisible reign over it, and he was anxious to find out who it was.

The seat of the ruler seemed to be empty as he reached the inner court of the Eternal Throne. But the only thing, that was eternal appeared to be a group of skeletons, gathering at the far end, near the tunnel that lead to the arena. And who knows, if it still was functioning and to what purpose, if the Lord of Bones was now resting forever?

Long, secure strides carried Danzig over across the dirty wooden planks and closer to the hooded figure, standing amidst his entourage, for Danzig could easily detect who was the strongest of the figures in their sickly green light and engulfed in pale vapor. If he could ever feel fear, this was not an occasion, a strange sense settling in his guts, as he neared the group of what looked like full on armor warriors. Except for the one in the middle. Curious.

He could only guess, who it was he laid eyes upon, as a skull in green flames and hollow dark caverns stared back. And Danzig could only wonder about how dignified that stare could have been, if this particular warrior would be still alive. Danzig was almost able to picture the face of grief and determination with his inner eye. Loose hair framing a handsome pale face with high cheekbones. And in his mind, there echoed a wicked laugh, which could rival that of a sincere maniac at any given time under scarring circumstances.

And in this moment he was reminded of his very own two, and not long ago upped to three, little maniacs, all alone at ther home. He wondered if this had reached them yet or if they already had to fight for the lives. Though Danzig had steel himslef and remind his inner own maniac at how well he had prepared at least one of them and be given the time to raise the sturdy, red hunter to grow with his tasks. Beyond a measure that was yet to be seen.

Danzig told himself to have faith in his small, infamous ball of mischief, sack of self loathing shit and their newest addition of sweet cookie and sour milk, which had grown in strength and company, fit for a protector of the realm. Dante would never let him down. And he knew he taught him well. And the mix of father and mother and their best intention had formed and molded him into a hyperactive child, with a nose that could smell evil fifty miles off. And with a heart big enough for the whole world to fit, tightly tugged into his uncanny cloak of happy go lucky, ready to be underestimated and giving him an advantage every single time. A stroke of genius or not, no one could be really sure about that. Even the quieter hours had seldom permitted Danzig to look into the soul and it grew harder with every year Dante had taken towards maturity. Though he for certain had fought and conquered his inner demon, something the other two, especially young Nero, had still to learn. But youth was like this with the hybrids. Never a dull moment. And Danzig always had cherished every single second of it, for the kind hearted boys had given their everything and more to live up to their own expectations. And that was the only thing that mattered. They heeded no one, but their own call from within their souls. And some had paid dearly for it as well.

Danzig left with good intentions, for he was well aware, if he would have left a single trace behind, he wouldn't be standing here alone, but with three fierce pair of eyes added into the mix. And they weren't needed here, but back at Capulet City, where danger lurked at every corner, over the more so yet, when the balance had no other to maintain it. And the realms needed to be kept in order. This one as much as the next. And how to deal with Heaven, Danzig had still no clear vision of. But he would have to face one burden at a time. And this one right here did not seem so bad as he at first had anticipated.

Not missing a beat, the old man dipped his head in a greeting and came to a halt right in front of the warrior. He couldn't feel any hostility and that was indeed an uplifting occurance. Here, he knew, he had met someone with a cleverness hidden behind a sight that didn't paid his sense of good judgment any respects. What looked like a mere pile of bones and clothed, draped in a beggar's outfit, was indeed a powerful soul, put to shame by none other than the master of this realm. If there was a master left, or this one simply lacked the memory or good taste to choose his exterior any better. Danzig would find out soon enough, if this proud soul heeded anyone any longer.

Danzig gave a warm smile to the skeleton man in front of him. His doubts had completely dissolved by now, he knew who he had made acquaintance with. He could feel it vibrate deep within in his soul. The vengeful righteousness. And the fierce love for someone long gone, but still etched into his unbeating heart. A burning memory of the man he once had been, reflected through the eyes of another. Dante was in awe of this brave and proud soul, which wasn't lost at all.

"You must be the one they call Draven." The greatest warrior that had ever walked the third kingdom, or so they said, even Death.


	12. mirror, mirror on the wall - pt II

Mirror, mirror on the Wall Pt II

" _You must be the one they call Draven." The greatest warrior that had ever walked the third kingdom, or so they said, even Death._

Danzig was met with an undead, toothy sneer. "And where did you hear that?" His English accent was thick and Danzig found himself intrigued and fascinated by it. Just another secret amongst secrets concerning the Master of Blades, Death held in so high regards.

"From Death himself." Danzig replied with an equal level voice, both staring each other in the eye, or where those were supposed to be, to find that hint of respect, they began to harbor for each other as soon as they met.

Unexpectedly, Draven bowed, but kept his flaming eyes on the old man, who looked like one indeed, but that vibe he got spoke of something entirely different He was intriguied by his uninvited guest to say the least. "I am Draven. King of the Dead. Master of this realm. And host of the battle arena." He straightened back up and widened his arms, motioning at the deck of this insane monstrosity of a flying wooden ship's deck they stood on, which was currently docked on the entrance to the battle grounds under the bleak sky with the unwavering storm clouds.

Behind Draven more ghostly shapes appeared, drawing a wide circle on his silent request, with Draven and Danzig at it's center. "But you, I never saw or heard of as it would seem. Spell your name. And what it is, you seek in this lonely lands." Just like a king would, he left no room for Danzig to decline his demands, delivered in a sharp voice.

Danzig took a brief look around and saw, that these ghosts were all souls, bound by oath and will. But not overthrown or enslaved, each sporting a different bony mask and tattered clothes, but still standing proud like the warriors they once were when still alive. They were here of their own volition. Death had mentioned, that Draven commanded an elite squad of unique and skilled warriors. He had called it an army though, and Danzig wondered how many of them truly were there and still in hiding. If he played his few cards right, this would be a tremendous aid, should it come the worst.

"I'm only a traveler. And a humble trader. My name is Danzig." He, too, bowed his head, flaunting just the right etiquette to greet a King of whatever it was he called his kingdom.

"That's a stretch, as far as I can see. There's no bargain here for you, I'm afraid. But, I will leave you to your secrets, if you tell me what you want."

Danzig sighed at him, but expressed a genuine, humble smile. Oh, there was a bargain, if it wasn't one of the sort Daven had in mind. "Where should I start? It is a long story I have to tell. And I'm not sure, if you have the time."

"Humor me, Old One." Draven said and turned, not bothering to look, yet halted after a few steps, waiting for Danzig to catch up to him and his unvoiced invitation. And with his tired and wrinkled eyes, Danzig blinked, clearly not expecting any kind of hospitality. After the first initial shock at the mention of the term 'old one', he followed Draven and his long and heavy armored footsteps up the grand staircase at the stern into the large construction next to the arena, which revealed itself to be the throne room.

"Tell me your story Danzig. I am dying to hear it." He chuckled at his own joke. "I beg your pardon. It seems there are some human traits, I appear to never have been able to shake off. And before you question me for not offering you any form of nutrition you might need, all we have is ashes and dirt."

But Danzig, politely answering to his request to trail behind, humored him with a sly chuckle of his own. Draven was no savage, that much was clear, minding his manners, wherever they may have sprouted from, Danzig wouldn't question his sheer luck. For the other thing, though. "I don't need that. I wouldn't have declined a fine spirit, but I see you ran rather short of that."

Draven motioned him to take a seat, which stood just at the start of the stairs leading up to the proud stony throne, where he himself settled, one leg crossed over the other and one elbow on the armrest, supporting his musing face under his chin. "A man of taste I see. I think, we might get along well. But sadly, no, nothing of that sort. But I do hope, to one day have that pleasure for myself again. It's something I quite miss."

Danzig felt the stone of his seat cold under his behind, shifting a few times, until he found a good enough position to finally begin his story time. "Well, if you ever should leave this realm, I could provide you with the finest among finest in the human realm. I'm sure you are one to appreciate it to the fullest."

The playful banter was such a welcomed distraction from his usual time, Draven found himself enjoying the company of the strange old man more than he could have guessed. "That just sounds acceptable. I will think about that. But now, I do believe you mentioned a shortage of time. Let's make the best of it."

Of course, Draven was aware what was going on beyond his borders. The death of the Charred Council had presented very welcomed means to end his torment. And to take the crown and have his revenge on the Lord of Bones. With swearing an oath to the powerful entity and receiving more powers in return, it stood and fell with their demise.

Though still a force to be reckoned with, Draven had challenged the former King and took his sweet time to strip his soul bare and send it back into the Well of Souls, where he once came from himself. The killing of the chancellor was the cherry on top. Not that Draven remotely remembered how that tasted, but the proverb fit too perfectly to not have used it.

And he had absorbed the then bodyless powers from his predecessor willingly and seated himself on the throne, freeing the tormented souls, that had wished for so long to move on, just like he himself once had done under the whip of his master. But more than a few asked to stay and became part of his army and made it grow exceptionally in strength, truly befitting of a King.

And then word got around of the vanished Horsemen, before Draven could announce his victory, he long ago had proclaimed to Death himself to seek. And this was more than disturbing. The watchers were gone, popping like puffs of reeking smoke into thin air. An era had ended and Draven was sure, the riders were the ones to have given it it's deadly last stab.

But here was one to fill in the gap for him and willingly so. An intriguing one, that smelled nothing like the dead. He managed to land on his good side with his mere choice of words and behavior. And because his scent didn't elude Draven in the slightest. This one was as old as time. And if someone like that took matters into his own hands, Draven would see the end of it. His pride commanded him too, as well as his honor. No foulness or corruption had ever tainted Danzig, that was for certain.

So Draven listened to the story and Danzig was highly pleased to have such a polite listener, soaking up all the information with little inquiry needed, for a sharp wit, as sharp as his tongue could be at times, was sitting behind that glowing skull.

Danzig knew, he had to tell his story time and time again from here on and struggled to keep it short and simple, not giving away everything, but saying enough to persuade Draven that they needed help, in form of a watchfulness, that he could provide. He doubted Hell or Heaven had much interest in the City of the Dead, but still, the way to the Tree was unblocked and Draven voiced his assistance to see it protected for how long it was needed.

How much Draven could guess, was only known to himself, but both were satisfied with the outcome. Neither interested in having the balance shift to one side only. And have them at mercy by whoever came out on top. And additionally, they both were aware, mankind wasn't ready to wage war against either of the realms, let alone both.

"You think the Horsemen are looking into a means to form a new Council?" Draven read enough between the lines and came to his own conclusions quickly as to why the riders had disappeared, and Danzig believed them to already be in the human world. He just hoped dearly, that Death's vault of abominations was safe to be left alone.

"It's only a guess." Danzig folded his hands over his knees and leaned forward, looking up at the King warily, though fairly amused. Here was the one chance he probably got. "Why do you ask?"

"It's what I would do. It can't stay like this, no? The riders are no barbarians, like the rest of their annihilated race. Death knows better. And he has this thing for the balance. It was quite obvious. I admired him, for he went a great length to save his brother. As simple as it may sound, but it clearly is the right thing to do for someone so driven to have his justice."

Draven had many points and Danzig was quite shocked to the insight Draven shared about Death's motivations. But he could only agree upon this. "So, when it does come to this, you want to bargain yourself into the new Council?"

"Oh dear, no. Not at all. It's their task to clean up behind themselves. But..." Draven took his sweet time and shuffled around to a new position, straightening his back against, sharp eyes trying to pierce Danzig's hard shell. "But, they might want to acquire someone to guard it. Someone worthy of this position."

Danzig's smile turned quite sly. "What I just told you was no jest, either. The third kingdom is in danger without protection, as well. If you stand with us now, you may be able to negotiate from a better point. You know, it won't be forgotten by the riders, who eventually came to their aid in times of need. And I know, that Death already thinks you are worth more than others. It would only set your qualities in stone and give you valuable esteem."

"To bargain myself in? Is that what you suggest? Well, Danzig. Here is my offer as King. If I promise you my men now, you will see to it, that I will have the riders word to be their first choice of guarding the Council." Draven's proud voice echoed through the vast hall, demanding more than Danzig was able to give.

Danzig held his hand up, offering his empty palm. "If they need it after all. I wouldn't dare speak for the riders. I merely present to you an opportunity."

"I see." Draven's voice was low with disappointment. "Pity." Then he stood up in all his undead glory, striding down the stone steps to stare Danzig down in his seated position. "Well, as it stands you only are here to ask for help, yet have nothing to truly offer." His proud voice was meant to intimidate his guest, yet it didn't work. "I never said anything else." Danzig merely shrugged.

"You're being honest, Old One. I appreciate it."

Danzig rose as well, meeting him head on with a deep, grattifying look to the flaming holes in his skull, in which once sat honest eyes, full of hatred and vengeance, though long gone. What yet remained, Danzig still spotted easily.

Draven strode past him. "The third kingdom is not foreign to me. But you already might know that. It once held the greatest treasure I had cherished the most, but it's long lost to me. But I couldn't forget, how I enjoyed every breath living." And Danzig felt the sorrow deeply in his own heart, jumping between them like an electric current. He bowed his head to acknowledge the words uttered in demure.

And unbeknownst to Danzig, Draven had already made up his mind long before, guessing someone would have eventually come to seek him out. But he would have bet his undead butt, it would have been Death himself. But this creature right here, the proud soul of ancient times held his interest far more better than any of the riders could have. Whatever Danzig was, it felt soothing to stand in his presence, his ache and longing tripled, but mended at the same time. It was intoxicating and only achieved to strengthen the King's resolve, that it would be beneath him to not aid the cause. Danzig was a noble man, there was no doubt about it. "I grant you your request. When the time is nigh, we will stand with you."

The old man's eyes zeroed in at Draven, expression a mix of surprise and relief. It had been easier than he had thought, the King of the Dead was truly a man of honor and with a sense for the right cause to pursue. "I am very grateful, King." He added a bow and his hand to his chest at the lst word. It beat like a single drum, settling in the proud posture of Draven, who gave a wave of his hand and a nod.

Having done what he came for Danzig bid his farewell rather abruptly, but not before giving veiled advice as to what the King's army had to expect. But Draven assured him there was no need to be worried in any way. He counted his warriors amongst the finest, that earth had wept for long as it had to see them pass. And Danzig could feel they were indeed in the hands of a capable leader and master. No, heshouldn't worry anymore and it was one burden less to bear.

After leaving the eternal thrown with feeling much lighter, Danzig decided to pursue another clue from the Crowfather. Though it was out of a more curious streak than actual practicality, Danzig had to admit. But who could say, how valuable an asset like the enigmatic Ostegoth, the relic trader, could prove to be. And seeking out that wretched Vulgrim, who the riders harbored both a distaste for, but still had to admit a value to him, would be nothing short of entertaining to the say the least. He was another trader, who knew ways to travel, they all could wish for. It would make things a lot less inconvenient. Maybe he knew a way into the White City, which could be immensely helpful. Danzig ached to see it and have a guess on what was going on behind the strongest walls ever built, though it might only be danger that was lurking beyond.

* * *

Nero stole glances at Devon ever so often, while they helped themselves to the dinner, Vergil had so aptly prepared earlier with a sour mood and more stinging words to unveil his dislike of having to see after the two only idiots who were indeed in dire need of nutrition in comparison to all the other current occupants of the house. But that was just Vergil's game, complaining harshly, yet still doing what needed to be done nonetheless.

Nero had only laughed, easily seeing through Vergil's act, and had received a halfhearted threat to spar right there and then, which had him sobered up immediately. As much as Nero most of the time wished for some action to go down, he didn't feel like it at that moment, all with an empty stomach and head full of worries. And luckily for him, Vergil had also other things on his mind, like Dante, that deviated his attention.

So, Nero had seated Devon and himself in the, now void of twinsanity, kitchen and they both munched happily away on the pasta. Not a stroke of genius to Nero, but for Devon it was tomato induced heaven. He could see her happy twinkling eyes and almost wished, he would have served the dinner, which they had been interrupted in preparing not long ago, rather than Vergil's good but awful simple dish, he would have spiced up with pleasure, if they hadn't been short before starving to death.

Oh well, since she was staying with them anyway, Nero could always have a second go to impress and blow her taste buds away. He knew he was good. The twins might be better at it, if they would ever develop the ambition to immerse themselves into the art, that cooking really was. But as it seemed of now, Nero was the only one to truly appreciate it. And he was completely fine with that anyway.

Devon had been awfully quiet throughout and after finishing dinner and it didn't appear to get any better. Nero put up with that at first, thinking she might still be tired or something, but Devon actually was nothing of that sort.

Her mind raced still at lightning speed with hundreds of thoughts, each to inapt to be voiced out loudly or so she thought. They were split between disbelief, realization, guilt and many other things. So many, woven together, she couldn't really pick one thread to haul out and discuss with her opposite, who was becoming a bit frustrated in trying to strike up a conversation.

She almost missed the first the day and the carelessness, for about now, it felt to her that she had been dropped and left alone in a foreign world. She lived in this city all her life and never had she truly walked it with open eyes up until now, she had discovered. So many questions and still no means where to truly begin. Dante was the kind of guy she would approach, if he had been in sight, making Nero the second and somehow much uncomfortable choice, for he appeared to have a burden upon his shoulders, she didn't know anything about and certainly didn't want to poke at.

Curiosity burned inside her stuffed belly, that knew no boundaries, but her brain told her to shut up. After they had eaten, both had toddled back to the couch, Nero once more flipping channels with a beyond bored expression. And as if on cue, Devon opened her mouth, finally, but Nero jumped to his feet, groaning excessively and the remote flew across the room. The action startled Devon and interjected with her mouth ready and open to speak. It snapped shut on the spot.

"Let's get out of here." Nero blurted out at her bedazzled face.

Devon's eyebrow shot up. "What?"

"Come on. I'm tired of sitting around, while they are having something important to do, without us no doubt." Sarcasm laced his remark. He stretched his sore back, making his whole body tense and the many muscles flex. Devon averted her eyes. He had no clue, how much it was bothering her. In all the right ways, she had to admit, but that was not the point. And she inwardly chastised herself for this and cursed him for being that kind of oblivious.

Devon eyed him warily, when he let his arms fall back in place. She very well could hear Dante's warning echo in her mind. And it would be a lie, if she told herself to not believe those and be frightened by the consequences, which where surely to come. Under all the misleading playfulness, she wouldn't doubt Dante was not one to be fucked with when it turned serious.

But here was Nero, with a mischievous smile directed at her skittish self, asking her to do exactly that. And she stood up, heart already racing. "Didn't you hear? I am not allowed to leave alone." It had sounded much more convincing in her head though, than out loud.

Damn.

Nero's grin turned obnoxious. "Well, I'm with you. Unless I don't count as somebody." He put both hands on his hips, a stance that suggested how undoubtedly unimpressed he was with her weakly delivered objection. "Just gonna stretch our legs a bit. And get some fresh air. What's there to worry about?"

He tried to persuade Devon, as if it was remotely necessary. Though the woman couldn't turn her eyes away from him, her brain suddenly did, because of the way the image of him was flattened by her disrupted eyesight. A sharp pang of sadness pierced her belly. How could she go outside with the way she looked? Somehow, all her courage and happy-go-lucky attitude had vanished along with her left eye, though she still tried excessively to keep up the impression.

"It's just not a good idea." Devon huffed, the gloomy thoughts taking over fully, watching his smile falter and vanish as well. "It just isn't."

Devon wasn't sure, if Nero misinterpreted her behavior, or what he was able to guess or what he didn't, but he turned soft and fairly serious. "It's alright. There's no need to be afraid."

If he meant of Dante or something else, Devon wasn't going to ask. The subject was edging towards an answer she felt like not giving yet. She looked more like a mess than ever before. All the dirt and grime? It always could be washed off. But this face? It was going to stay like this forever.

She could already imagine all the stares she would get. And because of him, people's heads were sure to turn. And then attention would be on her as well. It suddenly didn't sit well with her. And the occurring thought, she surprisingly cared about it, was another thing she had to chew on.

Nero observed at her closely, seeing the turmoil in her eyes, which she had carefully tried to mask up to this point. This was about something else, he deduced with a sullen feeling. Then the reason of her pensiveness hit him like a brick to the back of his head. "We can take the car, if you're not up for walking." Not letting it go, he tried a different approach and in a nonchalant voice to not rouse suspicion, that he had guessed more than she had realized.

Devon really couldn't say why he being so persistently, but the effort warmed her heart, feeling very much grateful that he did. She remembered, how uncontrollable giddy she had felt, when they had visited the supermarket. In the back of her mind, it had nagged at her relentlessly to have another chance like this again. He presented it to her with arms wide open. All she had to do was nod. Just this one single, tiny motion.

She knew, she liked Nero. From the moment, he had walked into the restaurant on Dante's request to pick her up, she had known. If there was anything to go by in such a short time, it was her heart, which told her with loud thuds, he was a genuine, caring soul. A fire burning low and steady when calm, but ready to burst into searing flames when needed. A temper and twitchy energy, she found nothing short of infecting.

Ridiculous as it may sounded, she trusted him. As she did with all of them. And there it was. The resolve she needed - to simply grab on to something or turn away and let it go forever. What's a bit pain to endure and a little insecurity, if she could make it to have such tremendous back up?

Funny, the choice was so easy to decipher after all. And by looking at him, it became clear as day. Much like the reverent ringing of that sweet sounding bell in the back of her mind. She could hear it bright and clear, how Pesh made his apparent consensus known.

A slow smile threatened to break through, watching Nero pouting with furrowed brows. He was the opportunity to have something other than a backpack full of trash and tattered clothes, desperately clinging to it while staggering through the eternal rain in dark streets. She'd be an idiot to not take her chances.

Nero read the smile as a yes, before she could say anything, stepping closer and nudging her arm with his fist. "Come one. Get dressed. Before the twins manage to catch a whiff of this."

Oh, so this was indeed a secret escape. The way he almost whispered the words with a smug grin, urging her with a point of his finger up the stairs to underline his statement, let excitement course through her. "Okay, okay." Devon replied, face split into with a mad grin. He made it feel like they were becoming partners in crime. And didn't that feel good?

"But keep quiet. Bag's still in my room. Just don't...," Nero remembered the state of the room with a pang of embarrassment, "...don't look around too much. It's a mess." He scratched his nose, sheepishly and donned a faint, cute blush.

Devon only shrugged, eventually finding and activating that tiny spot, she had kept safe for years within herself, once more. It was the one where she appeared to be indifferent t anything out of the ordinary like the way Dante had found her in the streets. Devon located it for Nero only and his awkward expression, which she wasn't going to judge anyway. "It's okay, Nero. We'll clean that up later, if you want."

Nero very much liked the sound of that, cocking his head in mild astonishment. The way his name rolled off her tongue was something he didn't know, he would like that much, either. But he declined the offer nonetheless. It was his duty, and when they would get back home, he already knew, Dante would make him do it on all for fours at least, if not coming up with something worse.

Devon went upstairs and grabbed the bag to snatch a few warmer clothes out, before she slipped into the bathroom. He had been right. The room had been a mess and it was staggering to actually think about him doing this much damage all by himself. Whatever had brought this kind of rage out, she didn't want to know.

Devon had tried to piece things together at first, but realized she had not enough input. As of now. Only the way he had retreated, after he had let her inspect his arm and claw. And that was her only clue so far.

Maybe he would talk about that, but she wouldn't let herself get her hopes up that high. Though he really was giving her enough of an impression to believe they were becoming friends. Or partners in crime. Anything for her. It was fine.

Devon dressed up as fast as possible, eyeing the bathroom door carefully, anticipating at least Dante to burst in and ask her what the hell she was doing. But nothing happened, much to her relief. She found herself smiling once more, feeling so daring to sneak out with Nero to do God knows what. She didn't care, anything to keep her mind from going haywire from anew by the minute.

She gave the sweater in her hand a warm grin, before pulling it over head, inspecting the red outline of the hand with the offending gesture with a turned back and looking over her shoulder into the vanity mirror. But when her eye traveled from the back print to her face, she stopped grinning entirely.

How Dante, Vergil and especially Nero were able to look at her with a straight face, she couldn't understand. The mild look of disgust she wore, was the least she expected them to have on their pretty faces as well, yet it never came. Her messed up face with the gruesome, dark hole stared back, gaping at her like laughing with an open mouth.

No matter what she told herself, her hopes and the small fantasy that had steadily built up in the back of her mind became black, like her eye socket. Though Nero gave her bright smiles and kind words, she saw the pity he couldn't hide, that flitted across his stunning features from time to time. He might was doing this out of courtesy and because there was no one other around.

And Devon knew, there would never be anything more than this to it. This was the top most she would get. And it gave her heart a slight sting, she was surprised to receive at her own gloomy thoughts.

As if...

She scoffed, looking into the mirror with a silent snarl and had almost laughed out loud. As if Nero was anywhere near the bottom where she teetered along all the time. He was high up and unreachable, even if he showed her an attitude, that could be misleading, if only she interpreted it widely and squinted hard enough to be able to deceive herself. But Devon was no fool. She'd take it nonetheless, yes, whatever he was offering and without question, but there was nothing more.

Devon tried to fix her hair into place with whatever product she could reach on top of the shelves, only these tall men could reach safely. Tiptoeing along, her fingers managed to nudge something off, and of course Devon wasn't able to catch it. It clattered to the floor and she held her breath, hoping it wouldn't rouse anyone to her actions inside the bathroom and get curious about the noises.

For what seemed like ages, she waited, trying to steady her breath and heart to not alert anyone. Nothing but silence ensued and Devon finally snatched the can off the tiled floor, swallowing the not so ladylike curse like sour grapes. Slow second thoughts crept up on her, while she pushed her hair into a favorable position.

After feeling so giddy at the prospect of escaping the house for a while with Nero, she couldn't help but to feel remorseful about it either. Dante had never given her reason to act like this. Furthermore, Devon believed he ever would. She accepted his restrictions under a heat-of-the-moment reaction and knew, it was more because of Nero than her. Or maybe a mix of both, ready to surface under the younger male's course of action in wrecking the bedroom.

Devon rested her hand over her face, contemplating yet again thoughts turning funny and spinning in circles. How fucked up it all was. And, ironically, coming face to face with the unblemished truth of it all. The room could be fixed. She couldn't. It would never go back to normal.

No matter the happy face she tried to put on earlier for Nero and the twins, for she knew she was grateful and they deserved it all, yet in this very moment Devon felt the sadness at arriving at the heart of this harsh truth. Biting her tongue, in order to let pain clear her mind, something she discovered to help profusely, she turned away from the image in the mirror.

She had to stop. Now. Even if she had to trade away one eye for it. Wasn't this, what she wanted? And the answer hurt.

When somehow finding someone who suddenly cared, it reignited the fears, she thought she had lost along the dirty streets. It wasn't fair to have them come crashing through the carefully assembled walls and out of nowhere, flinging her into the nervous state she found herself in at the simple and innocent request Nero had made, to tag along with him.

And with this Devon's thoughts went full circle back to him. Was it worth to not know and have anything at all, than having to stare at something she'd never had all day?

"Pesh...it's just you they like to know more about, isn't it?" Devon all but whispered, guessing she didn't even have to voice it out at all, for she knew, he was able to hear her thinking anyway. But it made him a confident to her secrets. And wasn't that at least a comforting thought? He would be there no matter what, that was for sure. And a selfish thing to boot, yet she wouldn't let anything come over him, what little she had to offer she would give for this warm presence inside her.

Downstairs, Nero had stood up from his prior lounging spot and began fidgeting with his glove in his hands. What was she taking so long for? A change of clothes didn't take half an hour lat time he checked. Nero paced back to the couch and let out another impatient groan.

When he couldn't take it any longer, he silently walked up the staircase towards the bathroom. He softly knocked, refraining from whisper-yelling her name at the last second. His hand hovered still in midair, ready to knock a second time, when the door opened. Devon faced the knuckles of his hand with a furrowed brow.

Nero didn't wait for a word to spill, shushing her with his finger on his lips, before he simply grabbed her wrist and dragged her along swiftly.

Devon's eyes were glued to where she was hauled after him, his warm hand encased her wrist in a vice like grip. And she had to grin, for he proved yet again to her, that he simply had no ounce of patience in him. They quickly made it downstairs and out of the front door in lightning speed and only then Nero allowed himself to speak, on their way to the car.

"What are you grinning about?"

Devon's head snapped up. "Oh nothing." She didn't even realize, she had been doing it and maybe even looked like a madwoman all the while. "Really. Nothing."

"O...kay..." He didn't sound remotely convinced with her answer and Devon wouldn't admit, she found it funny even more.

They climbed into the car, having Devon take a glance at the clock inside, making it evident that she might have taken too much time in the bathroom indeed to have him react the way he did.

When she pressed herself into the seat, as Nero backed out of the parking spot and lead the humming beast onto the road, Devon sported another, wider smile.

"Now you're making me nervous." Nero turned to her for as long as the straight road allowed him to, to give her one of his own mischievous grins.

Devon's grin was unwavering, yet turning even wider, if possible. And there was nothing she could do about it either. The way his face lightened up was just contagious. "Dante will be so pissed."

Nero chuckled. "And that's something to smile about?" But he might be going easy on her for this, Nero ventured, with being a girl and all, not to mention what she had already gone through because of them. He would suffer the consequences, but in this moment he could care less. "But hey, knowing Dante, he might let it slide with you."

"Whatever that's supposed to mean." Devon replied with an amused look.

And Nero found himself asking, what exactly he was aiming for with saying it the way he did. Well, he knew Dante long enough to know this trait about him, yet finding out that he didn't had a thing going on with neither Lady nor Trish, to which Nero had been dumbfounded, seeing and hearing how Dante was indeed popular with the ladies, but not with commitment. Or maybe he had been waiting all this time.

Nero knew, what he had been thinking, the first time he had seen Dante and Devon together at the restaurant, believing this had to be a fling the older man was chasing after. Only to find out, why he had actually phoned in and feeling guilty about it a mere second later. Dante wasn't strictly the guy to pick up girls from the wayside, and only ever resorted to Love Planet, since Nero moved in, only to learn from Johnny later, that he only ever did so.

But still, there was a nagging thought in the back of Nero's head, which didn't die down easily, slightly fueled on about the way Dante and Devon were actually quite casual and friendly with each other, up the moment where he swore he saw the woman blush, whenever Dante was around.

Nero would be the last one, to step in and cross boundaries. He could feel there was a genuine feeling that both harbored for each other. He was quite actually curious, if he was on the right track with what his guts told him. Despite all the various things, Dante's habits forced him believe, he could still see, that the man wasn't devoid of mature and deeper feelings. He just hadn't found the right one yet, so to say.

Nero viewed her for a second, before concentrating on the road ahead. She was nice to look at, even with that gruesome injury, which did not bother him, other than the pang of guilt. Something he had to live with from now on...and it wasn't a foreign feeling either. He lived with it for what already seemed like forever and a day. Sometime sit was dulled down in the actions of a busy day and sometimes, it got louder, just like now.

But Devon never blamed any of them for it. And the contrary, she was so casual about it, that Nero had come to conclude, it could be an act all the same. Yet, he still knew next to nothing about the women and what her story was. How she had ended up living on the streets under dirt and rain.

To ask her right upfront didn't seem to be best of choices, yet her unrattled behavior let him assume he might as well take a shot later, when the opportunity presented itself.

"Just a hunch." Nero shrugged, eyes fixed forward again. "So. Where do you wanna go?"

Devon's brows shot up at the question, caught off guard. "Why ask me? This was your idea. I thought you had a plan." If she was honest, she did not even have a single clue how to answer.

"Well, seeing like I practically dragged you out, you might as well get to choose." Nero chewed on the inside of his cheek, contemplating. "Considering as we just ate, dinner would be out of the question." Devon laughed at how he voiced it in a slightly hopeful question, indicating he'd still be up for seconds if it was presented to him.

"Don't tell me you're still hungry?" Devon asked in mild astonishment.

Nero cocked his head, licking his lips. "I wouldn't call it hungry. But, how about dessert?" The girl stared at him wide eyed, not knowing if she'd be able to ingest even more food. "I'm still stuffed, Nero." She gave him a fake pained expression, but chuckled at him, at how dramatically he let his face fall at that. Downright adorable, so Devon put a finger to her pursed lips, mulling her statement. She gave him a sheepish look. "Yet again, it doesn't so bad actually. And if it makes you happy-"

"-it does." Nero interrupted in a suggestive voice, satisfied, he was getting exactly what he wanted.

"Then by all means, I'm in. Dessert it is." She jabbed her thump at her chest and somehow the gesture reminded Nero of Dante, which made him laugh. "Let's make you the happiest dude out there. Because I'm sure you won't be by the time we get back ho-" Devon halted, breath caught in her throat, surprised at her own words. And the way how easily it had just wanted to roll off her tongue.

Nero turned serious at that, and a brief side glance revealed a confused looking Devon. The mood was about to flip, he could feel it. "That's right. It won't be pretty. But so worth it!"

Devon recovered, when he didn't even miss a beat in his remark. Her mouth opened, but nothing came. Nero grew nervous under her stare, grip tightening around the wheel. "What?" He asked slowly, not minding the road for a few seconds, while Devon just realized that this could eventually turn into a regular thing. Like driving around with him, spending time, getting to know each other. In only a few days, her life had turned completely upside down so to speak. In a good way, but also in a bad one.

When she still didn't answer, Nero waved his left hand in front of her eyes. "Earth to Devon." And he just had to go and say her name. And it sounded so good. And so painful. She couldn't say why, but it was a bittersweet hurt. "I'm here. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I know, there must be a lot of things on your mind. To be honest, I just thought, you might be good, with going outside and have a time out actually." Nero let his true colors shine once again.

But why did he even care, Devon couldn't tell.

"I'm fine. Really. But, you're right, there's a lot of things I still have to figure out. It's just so hard to believe, right?" She laughed nervously at her own words.

"Says the one, who admitted to have died just like that. But I guess, it didn't really sink in just yet." Nero might have hit the nail on the head and or missed it by a mile, but he had actually a lot of insight, the only difference between them was the nature of each soul they had both been housing in their bodies, or still were in Devon's case. He didn't even know, apart from his devil bringer, if anything was still present that smelled like devil inside him to begin with. Yet he had died and the foreign devil in him had brought him back.

"You sound like you know exactly what you're talking about..." Devon gave him a puzzled look.

Nero shrugged, with an indifferent expression. "In fact I do." He admitted it nonchalantly, throwing the proverbial ball right back, hoping she'd pass it once more and keep talking.

Devon didn't doubt him as he told her with a calm certitude, she hadn't yet encountered in full capacity. It gave her a from of reconciliation "How so?"

Fortunately for him, a red light gave him time to look at her. Blue eyes, determined and quite sad, in a way that made Devon's heart clench, didn't falter and regarded her incessantly. "Being a hybrid has it advantages, but I had to share my body with Vergil for a while, actually. He sat somewhere in my head and it wasn't the best of times, so to say."

Wow. That one she did not see coming. And how on earth could she have. This was all so bizarre.

Devon could only stare at him at loss for words. The hybrid thing she knew from Dante, having had that thorough talk with him on the side of her bed. But except for explaining how hybrids come to exist, as offspring between humans and devils, she still knew next to nothing. Dante had been vague about their and especially Nero's origin. Now that was the connection she hadn't been able to figure out, when she believed them to be relatives at first.

Nero didn't avoid her wide eyes and just continued with a shaky voice, which he realized a moment too late, but kept going nonetheless, finding a steady rhythm as he went on. "I found his sword, Dante had been after for a long time and I kind of consumed it. We merged involuntarily. But that's not the point. The point is, it could be undone."

And the cogs in Devon's brain clicked and Nero could see it working immediately. He didn't forget, what Death had said, when they asked him about the origin of Pesh inside her. And he knew, it must have been eating away at her ever since, even if she tried hard to not seem affected by anything. He had to admit, he found it incredibly admiring, yet it vexed him to no end that she had clammed up about this revelation altogether.

And the fact, Dante and Vergil where playing house with the riders did piss him off, he suddenly understood one thing. The restlessness didn't only come from the fact that danger was imminent, but that she might be in a danger much closer and sure played a huge part and why he had wanted to leave so abruptly. She was the one, they needed to help, he could care less about the business the riders had with Danzig. Thought the old man was a key item in every way.

He tried to swallow his resurfacing anger for Devon's sake though.

"Danzig will know what to do, when they find him." And Dante or Vergil might also have a plan already. Or so he really hoped at this point, though it didn't seem like it.

And with his assured voice and a single sentence, Nero was able to lift a huge weight off her shoulders. Devon smiled at how lighter it felt, nodding at him for good measure. He was a perceptive one, that she accepted and gave him the credit for through and through.

"I really tried to not think about that, to be honest. And I don't know how else to put it, but I just know Pesh doesn't want this. But there's nothing he can do about it, I guess. But that's different from you and the twins. It's not just some kind of power, but actually another being. Or did Vergil do anything to you?"

Nero had to laugh slightly in order to conceal how truly terrifying it had been. He thought back to it, with a twist to his guts at how gruesome it had been, and the relief and the sheer luck he had, that the ritual Danzig had put him through to separate them, succeeded the way it did. Which posed another threat to Devon, he didn't want to think about just yet.

"Oh, it was nasty. But imagine him twentyfour-seven. It kind of messes with you." He shoved the seriousness aside with a joke, not wanting to entirely spill the beans about the feeling of having a rampaging devil inside him, tearing his mind to tiny shreds. But Vergil had been through a lot of bad stuff all the same, and if Nero couldn't eventually relate, he would have lied. He had expereinced not only his tragedy, but Vergil's as well. And Nero highly doubted an angel to act the way Vergil had. There had to be a difference between two opposing mights, or so he at least hoped.

"I guess, I can understand. But this Danzig you speak of. Who is he? And is he really that powerful?" To Devon the concept still was mind boggling, even if finding herself in the middle of a bunch of supernatural creatures, she still had a hard time to comprehend.

Nero pondered for a moment. The green light and speeding the car off to their destination gave him time to give his answer, which he knew wasn't going to satisfy the newfound curiosity within her eyes. "He's really old, and not by human standards. He practically raised Dante and is kind of his mentor as far as I know. He's alright, bit of a nutjob though, if you ask me." And the way Nero said it with scrunching up his nose, Devon had to laugh out loud, interrupting Nero in the process. The boy scratched his temple, half embarrassed for maybe not choosing the right words and give a her an impression to worry about. Or outright laugh as she did. He chuckled along with her. "It's not as bad as it sounds. When it comes to things like demonic powers and such, he knows his stuff. He really does. So, don't worry. He'll know what to do."

A strange calmness settled within Devon, watching the old city and it's many facets of architecture pass. All it's dark and Gothic themed houses, which altered from center to outskirts into a lighter youth styled exterior, made her heave a relieved sigh. Still not knowing where exactly Nero was taking them, she only cared that it seemed like it wouldn't be anywhere near the unsettling remains of that goddamn tower.

* * *

Dante was unnerved by the fact, he wasn't able to sense Devon in the slightest since her recent rebirth or whatever they liked call it. And he really had the blinding urge to tell Vergil to back off and have an eye on her, despite knowing that Nero was surely keeping track of everything that happened in the house by now.

Poor boy sure was on the lookout for whenever Vergil would show up, ready to deliver punishment by whooping his lilly ass in a random match in a makeshift cage without escape, conjured up by those many swords he was able to summon.

Death's friendly glare didn't help either to turn his mood not into a sour one. So many things demanded his attention and here he was idly skipping through the various incantations in his mind to find the appropriate one to achieve the most satisfying outcome.

But it proved to be hard task with all those eyes solely on him.

"Vergil, do me favor, will ya." Dante spoke, unaffected by the glare going even so far as to point his finger at his brothers nose. He hated it as much as Death and Dante purely did it for shits and giggles. Vergil glared across it, arms crossed over his chest.

"What?"

Dante redirected his pointed finger to the bronze frame, rich with detailed flowers and other plants, Dante had no name for and neither did he care about that.

"Stick a few of your swords into the frame. Oh, and let me use Yamato for a second."

Vergil's eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. "You are kidding..."

"Afraid I'm not."

Death was breathing down his neck once more, impatient bastard he was. Dante could feel the rough exhale and it made his skin itchy. He rolled his shoulders out of habit and to shake the feeling off, while giving Vergil a pleading look, to activate some of that pity, Vergil was hiding somewhere in side him.

Vergil silently complied, summoning the swords without blinking and embedded them around the shiny surface deep into the wood. After that, Yamato appeared in his hand and he held it out, nothing directed at his brother but a sour look. However Dante was very thankful he didn't need to force this on Vergil, more than he jsut had to. But if Vergil insisted on staying, he might as well could participate, making things less complicated actually. He used the sword to cut his hand under the watchful eyes of both riders and his brothers, grinning stupidly at all of them, as if this was nothing even remotely dangerous.

Dante could have just called for Yamato himself. Hell, it belonged to him as much as Vergil's stubborn head and all the rest attached to it. Yet, once again he showed him courtesy, not wanting to demote his position any more than really necessary. And Vergil was well aware and might have appreciated the gesture more, if the situation had been another.

No one could truly guess, how deeply Vergil despised the state he was in. It was infuriating and frustrating all the same. Dante had done as best as he could, Vergil knew, but this simply wasn't how it had been supposed to end. Vergil did not accept it in the slightest, always looking for way to fix this and be back to normal, whatever he deemed to be normal anyway.

He tried to act accordingly to assure both Dante and Nero did not catch on, but in reality Vergil was distraught and this was by no means how he was going to stay. Not by a long shot.

And here was Dante, practically shoving it into his face at how he had missed out on all of Dante had become. When his twin finally began his attempt in subduing the mirror's power and bend it to his will with a string of words, that only meant he was fabricating an unknown spell, Vergil's brain almost ceased to function. He felt blinded by the bubbling rage inside him, struggling to keep his exterior as calm as poosible. Danzig had taught Dante well it would seem.

The mirror came to life, while Vergil watched in a state one could only describe as shocked. And the blatant truth hit him square to his faked stoic expression.

He would never had needed Arkham for his disastrous course of action in the first place, if he hadn't acted so rashly about it. He would have simply been able to open the passage and summon Temen-ni-gru all by himself. And this made his blood boil and eyes swirling with unveiled envy. How things would have turned out differently, if he had just stuck to Dante and Danzig for a little while longer, all this knowledge passed on to his brother would have been his as well. Arkham would have never been able to turn into the nuisance, they had to get rid of in a last joint effort eventually. Yet he had managed to turn into an ugly bump in the road.

Vergil's plan would have never failed without having to rely on Arkham.

He clenched his teeth and balled his hands into tight fists, suddenly wanting nothing more but to get out of there, and not having to witness at how much Dante had grown and exceeded his old self in wisdom. Danzig had always been a very capable man, but this was getting out of hand, putting all his faith into his idiot brother, though of course Vergil knew Dante was far from being exactly that.

It was just that Vergil always saw his little brother raiding the strawberry fields behind the family manor and stuffing his face with dirty fingers until he was about to puke. No other memory of their childhood had stuck more with Vergil, than this ridiculous behavior and the loud, obnoxious laughter, that had followed after their mom had found out yet again, because Dante's face always had been a sticky mess, which he had refused to wipe clean. He had never given a single fuck about how he looked and acted as a child.

Dante was highly focused on the mirror, feeling the dormant power come to life and prickling his skin with wanting to extend beyond the surface. Dante pressed his bloodied hand to the surface, after smearing signs across it. His mind began to stir and wander to look over expanding over fields and fields of ash, through great gates of dark, sticky grime until a green lit sky filled his vision by looking through the mirror. He silently called out for Danzig wherever his eyes would roam, knowing the danger and accepting it all together.

Creatures became aware of the swirling, yet still tightly closed portal, moving swiftly across the highs and lows of the endless plains. Dante didn't even know where exactly he looked, but desperate times called for desperate actions, which he was willing to make. And he knew, with Vergil and the riders behind him, for whatever might still be able to break through his spell, it would receive a solid beating and not get away into the human realm anyway.

His grip on the mirror slightly faltered, making him bite his lower lip. This was unpleasant and he could feel Vergil's swords vibrate under the spell, he ahd used on them to enhance it. It feed off the demonic essence from Vergil and Yamato to hold it open in the process. His eyes slid over to where his brother stood with an expression, he hadn't seen in a long time.

Dante breathed heavily. "Verge." He admonished his brother to not loose command over the summoned swords, as the first telltale clang hit him hard to the ear. Blue bits and white swirls told him, Vergil was not paying attention any longer. Somehow seemingly caught up in thoughts, one by one of his cursed blades vanished. "Vergil!" Dante all but bellowed at him. "Focus, dammit!"

His response was a snarl, Dante was surprised about, for he could not guess a fraction of what had gotten into his brother. Dante's hold slipped further under the strain to uphold the physical blockade to the portal, slipping like his hand, leaving more traces and smears across the mirror. With the last blue blade's pop, Yamato disappeared as well, yet the portal remained, the surface of the mirror liquified and Dante's hand slipped through.

Vergil disappeared in a flash and War was so kind as to haul Dante back by a harsh yank at his collar, landing him on his butt.

"Get ready." Was all Death said in a darkened voice, knowing the attention of the beasts on the other side was on them and now the spell was interrupted and the portal open.

"Vergil!" Dante yelled yet again, but already knew it was futile. He was gone. "You moron." He added for good measure, and for a second his darker side wanted to shout at him to come back in here and there would be nothing Vergil was able to do about, but to heed his master's command.

The first demon came through and the stench hit Dante unprepared. With flaring nostrils he flipped from his seated position back to stand on his shaky feet. His anger doubled over, then started climbing to heighten tenfold.

"You two-" Death snarled, but was stopped dead when Dante triggered, ripping through skin and clothes of the riders bodies standing in too close range to his energy burst.

The anger manifested, tangible and with a bitter taste to both the riders mouths. It was the first time to experience this form and it made them painfully aware from where this power heeded. It wasn't the sulfuric taste of the thing, which plunged through the mirror, but the very own odor of Dante's devil form that they tasted. It actually hurt.

"Disgusting." War piped up, while ridding them of the creature with his huge claw, splattering them all to equal parts with the acidic blood. Who exactly War meant was not clear.

And then the things poured in and the bedroom proved to be small to hold them all in, wood splintering where they hit, shelves and dressers practically exploding all over the place. Dante seethed with rage, not even remembering that he was the one capable to close the portal in the first place. And the fact that he should be doing exactly that, rather than to mindlessly rip through undead bodies and hurl them away, while his low growls escaped him.

The bedroom became a solid mess in mere moments and within the shredding and maiming, Dante had a strange thought. He highly anticipated for Nero to come crashing in, always itching for a fight, but it didn't happen. What the hell was up with that? And this thought didn't help his state and their propblem, but only fueled his anger.

"Nero!" His dark, deep voice echoed through the house and shook the old stone walls to the core. If that wouldn't wake anyone up from their nap, then it only confirmed his suspicion. Nero was gone. He half hoped and half cursed, that Devon might be with him.

Fantastic.

"Hunter! Close that damn portal. NOW!" Death roared over the sounds of wailing and screeching demons, making short effort of defending the way to the door, while War's massive frame blocked the window. They both pushed back the wave of undead beings singlehandedly though, while Dante stood in the middle, trying to get his consciousnesses back and evading any attacks almost blindly. These things were weak, not able to put a scratch to his scaly armor. So, they were at least a bit lucky.

Then he burst into a low demonic chuckle over his own stupidity, striding over with two steps to simply give the mirror a single yank. The crash was deafening and tiny dark shards flew in every possible direction, the thing broke upon impact, crushing the last two demons that had manged to shove their stinking bodies through, before the portal disappeared with wrecking the mirror.

Sometimes the answer was not the complicated one wringing his brain, but the most simplest thing at hand.

Silence settled after Death cut the last creature's head clean off and it dissolved into a bitter smoke. Dante reverted back and huffed a few times, assuming a hunched forward position with his hands on his thighs. "Well, that got out of hand quickly."

He scaled the damage of his bedroom from under his bangs, sighing longingly. It was reduced to a piled up wreckage. The walls sported various cracks, where War had crushed his victims unceremoniously. His wall of memorabilia lay in ruins. It was a disheartening sight, how it all had been crushed in a single moment. Dammit all to hell.

"Your smart mouth should be talking to your brother, hunter." Death ground out, his voice a memento of how much of his silent burning wrath could cut deeply into ones soul. Dante was still shaking under the influence and powerful burst of his involuntary trigger. It came without a single warning. And here he thought, his control over it was without fault, yet it came as a painful reminder of how much Vergil could get under his skin. Literally.

Dante straightened back up as both riders left the room, flinging the door shut and it cracked, leaving the hinges behind as it fell to the floor. "Great." Dante sighed again, dusting himself off, and stalking out of the room to look where the damn kid was. He grabbed the phone. Time to set his companion huntressess to hunt after his favorite partial-demon kid for a change.

* * *

City lights came to life, dusk always settling in early under the looming clouds, that promised yet another of the city's infamous downpours. Nero looked up at the mass of dark clouds from inside the car. At least they were going to stay dry and seeing at how empty the streets were, he mused they would be lucky to have a parking spot just outside his favorite cafe.

But in a nutshell, he pretty much enjoyed the ride, liking how abandoned the streets were as soon as darkness came along, for he could drive the car fast and without hindrance. Normal folk just didn't go outside this time of the day, just a few strays here and there. And who could say they were in fact human to boot? Even far away from their district and close to the tower, then again it was a typical occurrence, all those other residential races roamed practically everywhere these days.

Nero and Devon had changed subject not long ago and she had been asking all type of funny and trivial questions, though he didn't mind at all. It all had started, when he turned up the radio. And from that one song she asked him about, learning he was quite the crackhead when it came to music, they ventured out into the movie section, he also never tired to ramble about either. Devon thoroughly enjoyed herself at how talkative he was, filling the silence with other things than all the heavy stuff she had to think about.

They already made a deal of having themed movie nights to show Devon everything she had missed out on. Which lead him to question her about how she had ended up like she did. Surprised at first, but encouraging him without seeming that much embarrassed when it came to open up to him, Devon told him she had lived here ever since.

She had experienced the raising of the tower at first hand, people disappearing over night and the coming of the other races, to which admitted, she never had even thought about up until now. And Nero was baffled and amused about how soemone coudl be so oblivious, which earned him a playful punch to his arm and her whining, because she had forgotten already about his inhuman trait, which left him in a pleasent state of surprise, at how she could have forgotten in the first place.

She told him then, how economics hit such a low, that she lost her already small pay job and the rising of criminal activities, that made her homeless in the first place. It was not safe anymore to stay at one place. She had found a place at first, where she had lived upon meeting Dante the first time, but landlords these days had tripled the rents and another job she couldn't find. It was a cycle she found herself in all too quickly, until she was chased out. All alone, no family, no friends.

Upon the mention of family she had just shut down, vaguely hinting, they weren't around any more, whatever that meant. And Nero decided to not poke into this seemingly sensitive topic. But the vanishing of all those people with the appearance of Temen-ni-gru had been news to him.

The city had indeed a dark history, which very much suited it's exterior and the foul weather. Which brought him back to stare up at those clouds far above their heads, but too close to miss. The rain would come soon. Yet the promise of lounging inside the cozy cafe, eating cake and whatnot and have a civilized conversation about martial art movies, Nero really didn't want to miss out on that one.

He drove faster even, first drops hitting the windshield, along the broad main street without a single other car in sight.

He quickly checked on Devon, finding her staring outside, head in hand and elbow on the armrest. He was about to ask for the umpteenth time if she was alright, but the words never came.

All he heard was a loud crash and the flapping of wings, he thought were a trickery of his own mind. No bird could make such loud noises. As if on cue, his eyes snapped open and it took him a moment to retrace what must have happened, seeing the world oddly from a horizontal perspective. This couldn't be right, his brain responded. He was supposed to be in the car, driving, yet as his shaky vision zoned in further, he saw it laying on top on the sideways, crashed into a building.

He groaned to the aching in his head, trying to locate his limbs, hoping they were still there. His mind was strangely calm about what just had happened. But how he managed to crash the beautiful car was beyond him. His fingers dug into the dirt of the road, scraping his buds open, but the slight sting helped his mind to get back into gear.

He stood, looking around frantically, remembering he hadn't been alone for once but with the woman. "Devon!" He yelled over the gust of wind and the flapping of wings, which suddenly made total sense.

Now there was a sight to behold.

He suddenly saw her. Her leg sticking out of the window of the car. He msut have had crashed through the windshield or out of the driver window. He groaned again, limping towards the car, not caring for the white winged creatures above. Did they do this?

"Still not dead, I see. Demon scum." It was a deep voice, coursing through him like cold water, chilling his demonic blood down. Nero's head snapped up, only fast enough to see the angel, before he was hurled quite a few yards across the street and landing far away from the car's wreck and out of any means to reach Devon before them.

He yelled her name over and over, demanding her to stand up. He saw how she tried to crawl out of the car, astonished she was still alive and able to do so. Nero forced himself to his feet, his loud voice taunting the angels, he counted ten at least, to have their attention pinned on him.

"Hey, you damn pigeons! I'm not dead, yet. Wanna try again?" Nero yanked at his glove to rip it from his devil bringer.

And it sure did the trick, glowing eyes turned to him. Too bad he was still in a lot of pain, making it hard to focus on his devil bringer to take form. Damn, why was it being so hard? "Come on, you stupid thing. Work dammit." As if it would help any, he rolled the joints of his elbow and wrist, trying to loose them, much like a boxer ready for a fight.

The angel closest floated towards him, flapping his wings to form a gust mixed with dirt to hit Nero's face. Oh, so that's how they taunted back? "Nice one." He wiped his eyes off with a defying sneer. "You have to do better than that, you oversize canary."

"Shut your mouth, demon." The hollow voice responded as Nero bared his teeth at him. "That's exactly how roll, poser. Come and get some."

He did his best Bruce Lee impression, snickering to himself at how ridiculous he felt, hightly doubting they might not even know what he was doing. Hell, he didn't even know what he was doing. But all that mattered, was for Devon to have a chance to escape. He knew, they were after him.

She scattered to her feet, staring wide eyed at Nero, taunting the angels away from her. But her feet refused to walk the opposite direction. She wouldn't leave him alone. She heard them call him demon and knew he was doomed to a full on attack, Devon wasn't sure he could withstand. Those being where as terrifying as they where beautiful in al their armored glory.

Nero shook his head at her. Why was she still standing there? But, if he was to yell now, they would go after her. All he could do was hope, she'd catch on and escape.

"Now!" He yelled at them, yet meaning for her to get a move on, actually. Naturally, it did backfire, because they followed his line of sight. "Devon, run for fuck's sake!"

His voice was so full of fear, that she dug her heels into ground, yet feeling every single bone ache under the pressure. She wouldn't get far. She wouldn't, but she had to try nonetheless. A deep breath and she leaped forward, racing away like scared to death animal.

Nero watched in horror, as the first three came down and crashed against him, ready to bash his head in. He was yet again hurled across the street, but this time more his body was prepared. He caught himself mid flight, doing a flip and landed back on his screetching feet. His bringer sung, plucking the first one from the sky to crash him into the ground, grind him in to the concrete and leave a bloody pulp of feathers and insides. The other angels grew frantic.

His bringer expanded at the massive adrenaline rush, he experienced on his first kill. Damn, that felt good. He roared at he next two, flailing his bringer around, aiming to crush them in his fist, wanting to feel the blood gush out and seep through his fingers. It still took a lot of energy to use it, since Vergil had been plucked from his body. He always used it scarcely, but if a situation asked for it, it was this one or none at all. He had to save her.

As long as he could stand, they wouldn't get her, he thought grimly, his confidence fueled by his success to be able to keep them at bay. The angels reformed, though one had dispatched from the flock and closely followed Devon. Nero broke into a sprint, leaving the others alone for a moment while redirecting his bringer to catch that exact one, before he could reach her.

That's when they started a perfectly orchestrated attack on him. Coming from all sides, disturbing him in his attempted attack and his bringer vanished, when they hit him simultaneously. He heard his bones crack, and he saw a shimmer of a blade. Before he could ask himself, where that did come from he felt the sting. Pain exploded behind his eyes and in his guts.

It went through his stomach and up, severing skin from bone, ripping through his muscles and cutting the tendrils to make his right arm go limp. Nero roared. It was a searing pain, which he had never experienced before, as they tried to cut him in half.

His energy flared up at so much pain, his devil blood working hard to not let him die, let alone loose his conscience. He got a hold of a wing, snarling loudly with an otherworldly growl. In all this mess of limbs, he got another hold of an arm and with what inhuman strength he still possessed, he tore at both and one angel apart by his limbs and wing.

Nero then crashed with a loud thud, face first into the cold cobble stone. Pelting rain cooled his heated skin and evaporated on contact. His eyes started to loose focus. He saw Devon sprint along the street in a hazy blur, and despite his injuries, he still tried to get onto his knees.

"RUN!" It was futile. They caught up with her, no matter how loud he would have managed to yell.

Nero felt numb. All he could see was the blood in his eyes. It painted his vision red.

Again, he thought. His energy seized to pulse through him.

The angel grabbed Devon, coming towards them, letting Nero see from up close how he dropped her ungracefully from above, like unwanted dead weight. Just like that.

What cold and merciless creatures they were. The thud echoed through Nero's mind, drowning out everything else. The frantic flapping of wings, which had occupied his hearing before, grew silent - as did everything else. All he could her was her shrieking voice and then nothing.

He had failed again.

And then he screamed. Screamed at the angels to die. Screamed at her to stand up. But nothing happened.

"This one's no mere human." Nero's hearing dimmed. Everything sounded dull, but those words echoed profusely. They weren't talking about him, they already knew he wasn't. They meant Devon. " Yet, she's dead. Let's get the other one first. We'll deal with her later." Another voice replied harshly.

In this moment Nero gave up, falling to his knees and forward on his elbows, burying his face in the only warmth that was left - his glowing arm. He even cut his forehead on the scales. It should have made him angry, it should have had any effect on him, but there was no fight left.

His hearing diminished further, until there was nothing than the sound of his own blood rushing through his heaving frame like the sound of static radio waves. Why was it all so pointless? If he was alone, there was nothing he could do.

Yet, a tearing noise shredded his immobile state of self pity to pieces. Nero's head snapped up, eyes zoning in and out, yet trying to find the source of the sound.

"Hey, you!"

A voice, that should be Devon's, but strangely was not, called out to him. It sounded pwerful. Commanding even. And it made his weak knees steady. And his clouded head cleared a bit. With still shaking hands, Nero forced himself up on all fours. Eyes wide awake at the glowing figure. It was Devon, but at the same time it wasn't, just like the sharp tongue it had used. The shape was much bigger, and she was secured inside.

"Stand up!" The voice yelled, pounding the command into his spinning head, and Nero's body almost moved on it's own accord.

The angels halted at this new turn of events. "As for you. How dare you?" The voice addressed them, becoming low and menacing, yet sill sounding so incredibly young to Nero. Younger than him, he registered almost baffled at his own train of thought. Yet, it held a different power, a defying and cutting edge, that he himself wished he still possessed.

The glowing figure started without a second warning. One angel was ripped apart by huge, ghostly hands glowing golden and seemingly summoned out of nowhere. But he had seen that kind of move before. From Death.

Nero stared, mouth open, but no words to sprout. Their winged attackers halted for a moment, at their dead brethren before they erupted into a flurry of wings and attacks, giving Nero a second to breathe and look closely at the entity, he knew so well. At least the feeling was familiar, which he had experienced a couple of times by now, whenever he had touched Devon. "You're Pesh, aren't you." He spoke more to himself than to get confirmation.

The figure laughed at Nero as he hauled another angel off his form. He laughed of all the things possible. And wasn't it the most delicious sound, inciting a new and fierce courage in Nero's battered body.

"The one and only." Pesh replied cockily, while his huge cloudy hands deflected another attack from their opponents. Nero breathed in relief, sitting back on his heals still out f breath.

Pesh held his hand out, palm facing Nero's puzzled face. "Just a moment, while I get rid of those."

And as he said, he did. Nero watched in awe, glued to the spot at how carelessly he handled Devon's tiny body. He went through the remaining angels like a fire storm, burning where he connected his attack. Nero heard the crashes, amongst other way more unsettling noises. They screamed as they burned to clouds of ash, which the wind blew right back into Nero's horrified face.

Clearly, Pesh didn't realize how fragile a human body could be, or he simply didn't give a damn. Nero knew, that there were more than a few broken bones suffered by now. His anger grew with every new crack to Devon's bones. But Pesh's frame grew brighter and his outlines became sharper by the second, until Nero' eyes could fully see him. Devon seemed to have been pulled inside a shell, that now looked like a human form. Wild blonde hair sat on top of the boy's head, which held a face, so stunning and beautiful, that even Nero sucked in a sharp breath.

Truly an angel. A sight for sore eyes really and ready to soothe any frantic heart.

His clothes were white and whatever gore he unleashed, the fabric certainly was immune to anything resembling a stain. Not that anyone was able to come close enough to touch him anyway. Or it was that pulsing cloud, surrouning his form like an armor. Warm and impenetrable. But Devon still suffered inside from his sheer unmatched powers straining the human inside.

What the hell was this maniac doing to her?

Nero grabbed the closest angel right from under Pesh's nose, feeling his bringer respond to his angered state. Without looking, his bringer crushed the body, before tearing it apart at the midsection. Blood splattered around him, landing on his clothes, in his face and hair. Nero never thought about it ,heaven or hell alike, and what the afterlife would bring, but it occurred to him as he ripped the angel apart, that for these actions alone, he might be denied heaven altogether - for slaying a holy creature and very much so without remorse, if it wasn't already for his demon blood to have closed the gate to him forever from the start.

Nonetheless, he liked how good it felt to tear one of his apart, demonstrating to Pesh how easily he was able to kill the heavenly offsprings. Nero wouldn't stand by idly and let Pesh hurt her in an intolerable cruel and unnecessary way, if he could help. So, he tried to speed up the fight, so Pesh wouldn't have to strain Devon's body any longer.

"Hah! So you can fight! Why didn't you do so earlier, instead of giving up so easily?" Pesh gloated, making the him squirm under his sharp eyes. The last angel fell to the ground, as Pesh squished his neck carelessly.

Nero decided he didn't like Pesh one bit, for rubbing his face right into the matter, like a pup's nose into his own poop. What did he know anyway? "Shut the hell up." Nero huffed, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulder the devil bringer was attached to.

Pesh grinned a smug grin, despite knowing he went kind of overboard. But it felt so good to be able to move again. Adrenaline rushes of battles, as short as they were, were the best kind. And the worst, for they made you forget the pain, which this time wasn't his alone to bear. So, he maybe should indeed apologize to Devon later.

Flexing his muscles, he gave Nero a disapproving sneer. "She's healing in no time. Besides, I would n't have come out, if you hadn't done so poorly. You can't just wait for Devon to have a near death experience every time, feel sorry and wait for me to pull you from the neck deep shit you're in."

Nero blinked. And sputtered incoherent words, which could be a repetition of his own last words, for all Pesh could make out from him. His judging stare didn't falter. "Devil my ass." He rolled his eyes, while he muttered under his breath, before he directed his words back at Nero." Your kind always gets me agitated. For many reasons..." Pesh's words stung further and deeper, but Nero's mind fully focused on the fact, that this angel had a very foul mouth.

"Where the hell have you learned to speak like that?" Nero all but blurted the question out, knowing his undeniable fault and uselessness of the inquiry, even before he received a scorching glare. Those eyes were unsettling him to his very core.

"Geez, you're dense one, aren't you." Pesh scolded him harshly, shoving his glare further into Nero's bloodied face. If he thought, he could intimidate the devil though, he was sorely mistaken. Nero gritted his teeth, so hard, he thought he might pulverize his canines to blunted stumps.

Pesh grinned smugly at Nero, enjoying how easily affected the boy was. "I believe we have more pressing matters to deal with and I suggest you get your act together, pal."

"Well, _pal._ " Nero wiped his nose, before he sneered back at the angel. "Back inside with you then. We have to get back home. I got it from here."

Pesh only laughed silently, while cracking his neck and knuckles. "I hope you do. I can save her as many times as I want, but you had a one-use-only term, which you totally wasted I might add. Well, nice chat and all, but you really grind down on my nerves." Pesh shook himself, like he wanted to get rid of something unpleasant, and when he merged back inside, he pinched his nose. "By the way, you stink. If I were you, I would do something about that uncanny demon smell."

"Why you-" But Nero stopped dead mid complain, as Devon staggered forward, the glow still bright and vibrant, but Pesh already dissolving and reverting back Pesh's voice sounded once more, yet like far off already, as if he was shouting from a deep and dark cavern. "Hold on." And with Pesh's last deed of the day, Devon's delicate fingers wrapped around Nero's wrists and pulled his arms around her waist. "Tightly." Pesh's voice echoed quietly and then the glow was gone, Devon's body sagged into Nero's embrace, catching him off guard.

He got down to his knees, pulling her closer to his chest. He furrowed his brows and watched closely, waiting for a proof of life. Her breathing hitched a few times, and the muscles in her face twitched. Nero's hold involuntarily tightened, relief washing over him like warm waves under the a relaxing summer breeze. He swore for a minute, he could even smell the salty sea and somehow a sweet, spicy fragrance of green valleys covered with millions of wild growing flowers, carpeting the green grasses, weighing softly in the warm winds.

"Devon.." He called her name in a quiet voice, when she moved her limbs, to prove she was still alive.

His voice startled her into snapping her eyes open. "Where is he?" She jerked up, almost hitting her forehead on Nero's, who luckily managed to evade the impact.

"Hey, easy there. He's gone. Back inside I guess." He muttered, still not fully comprehending what had just happened. He really did meet the angel, and certainly not in a way he could have seen coming. And certainly he had been not what Nero had expected him to be. A real angel. It was ridiculous, he almost laughed at the thought, that this creature was nothing short of a cocky bastard, but in high contrast sported strubbly blonde hair and a face, that'd make you cry, if you saw it. Just the attitude had Nero so dumbfounded, his brain failed to put up with this revelation.

Of course the angel had been unfortunately, incredulously handsome. And somewhere in the back of his mind, it bugged the hell out of Nero. But what did he really expect then?

Still not minding the cuddled up position they were in, Devon wiped her eyes with the back of her bloodied hands, which got Nero back quickly to the there and then. "Come on. You can stand, can you?" He carefully helped Devon to get onto her shaky feet, verifying her approval with a nod.

"I'm fine." Devon then whispered, holding onto him for dear life when her legs wobbled a bit. "I think." She gave him a nervous laugh, and all the while registered, he was holding her still taightly around her waist. And the warmth of the touch felt nice on her freezing frame.

Nero tilted his head trying to smile, still concerned but more convinced when she could laugh already. It seemed truly like yet again, Pesh had mended every single fracture, cut and bruise, and at an alarming speed, so much faster than the last time. The lone fact, that the bastard must be getting stronger, was all Nero took from that observation.

They continued to grin at each other like idiots, knowing how lucky they had been. Nero searched her eye to find any traces to that glow from before, but relaxed when he didn't see it, meaning that this was truly Devon in a warm body with a beating heart in his hold. Alive and well. And then he smiled at her, like it was the first time discovering, he could smile. A smile so bright, it melted the icy grip, Devon still felt on her bones, all away from head to toe.

The warmth spread from his arms over to her and she could feel the slow, tantalizing burn up unto her cheeks. Despite the situation they had just been hurled into and the chaos around, it seemed to dull down until only they both where left in a silent cocoon away from the horrors of a world spiraling into a chaos, both had still no clue about.

It was as if the whole world took a deep breath and held it, to stop it all from crashing down for a minute. Only for them to have a look into each others eye. This moment was all theirs.

Devon didn't need to realize. She knew. Her heartbeat was rampaging in her chest, cheering her on along the course of action, as she lost herself in the sky blue eyes and wishing they'd never fade and look for her always, even if chaos was all there was left around them.

Nero tilted his head down, further and further, holding his breath, not really knowing, if he should be doing anything like this. His head was strangely empty, yet felt like it was stuffed with unaccountable worries of a past lifetime. He didn't care for the blood and grime on their faces, how his hold might had tightened a tad bit more to be slightly painful, when he could almost feel the feathery touch of her lips, but still a hair apart from one another. His eyes fluttered shut, just before he pushed forward. No last ditched effort to hold back. No restrain from his whirlwind of thoughts. Just his instinct.

Devon merely flinched, as a buzzing in her body erupted, until she thought she might got electrocuted, if a simple, soft touch of Nero would even be able to do this to her. She tried her best in her confused state to feel it with every fiber of her body, memorizing the light graze of his lips along hers.

The bells didn't sound - they shrieked violently in her head. As if they were caught up in a storm of a warning and tingled wildly in disharmony upon their lips first touch. Her eyes snapped open, jerking away, before it could truly become a first kiss.

Nero mirrored her action, looking shocked and hurt. His breath erupted into a shaky long drawn out breath. What was going on? Devon had jumped as if she had been burned, shivering under a pain, that had no evident cause.

"You okay?" Nero asked fairly distraught, yet despite himself and the embarrassment he experienced. He let go of her abruptly and averted his gaze to look over the top of her head with widened eyes, distractinghim completely .Someone was coming and Nero's spritis dropped even further.

Devon's answer was drowned out by the loud sound of not one but two motorcycles drawing near. And Nero knew the sound by heart, not having to wait until they came into view around the corner to know exactly who it was. Now talk about timing.

The deep roar was Dante's bike and the slightly crackling hum came from Lady's. They both waited for it to come closer, but Nero was pleasently surprised when it was Trish who accompanied Lady, greeting them with a wave of his hand as they parked next to them

"Need a ride?" Trish greeted in her usual smugness, whereas Lady inspected their surroundings slightly astonished. "What happened here?"

Nero jerked his head towards the crashed car, and it broke his heart all over again. It was a wreck, decorated with the body of a dead angel. "We got attacked." At least the car didn't go down without a fight. He had really loved the car.

"Wow. I see." The women exchanged a brief look, meaning to report back to the shop as fast as possible and getting Nero and Devon back with them.

"You look terrible." Trish acknowledged with a mocking look of disapproval to her beautiful face, but Nero scoffed, before he broke into a matching grin. "You just saw the other guys? I look spiffy compared to them."

Seeing him acting in his usual demeanor, Trish patted the backseat for good measure. "Then hop on. And let's get you cleaned up. I'm not into the dirty, scruffy looks in men at all." Her flirty remark earned her a noncommittal grunt from Devon, who found it slightly disturbing at the crazy turn of events, not knowing how Trish rivaled Dante in so many aspects. Nero found it quite amusing, for he got used to it by now.

"I'll keep that in mind." He retorted, ruffling his sticky hair and swishing it out of his eyes in the process, as he seated himself behind the black clad woman.

"Are you alright? You look like like you've seen a ghost." Lady asked Devon, featuring a sympathetic look and tone.

"No...I mean yes." Devon stammered, shaking her head before nodding. "I mean...forget it."

"I believe we haven't met yet, but I'm Lady." The brown haired introduced herself, reaching a hand out. Devon stared for a moment, before grabbing it, knowing she heard the strange name before, but her head hadn't fully restarted yet it would seem.

"Save the introductions for later. I really like to haul ass out of here." Nero urged without turning from his position, ready to get home to whatever awaited him there. Anywhere was better than this. The rain was pouring down and they would all be drenched by the time they got home.

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Lady didn't wait for Devon to be seated properly, working the bike into a roaring frenzy, ready to race Trish to the shop. Over the loud sounds of the bike, Devon could hear Lady yelling at her to hold on tight. And because this was frightening as hell, Devon willingly complied, digging her hands into the woman's clothes as much as her shaky and sore fingers allowed. This woman was mad. Riding with Dant had been nothing compared to this.

Nero would have enjoyed the ride more if it weren't for the shitty weather and his traitorous mind, that kept springing back to that exact moment, where his lips had almost landed full on on Devon's. He had been so damn relieved to find her yet alive, it practically happened all on automatic mode, which was even more disconcerting. He had been a mere bystander to his actions. He prayed, he would be able to watch it the next time, something like this would happen.

Next time... Who the hell was he kidding? Devon's reaction was more than sufficient for him to understand it had been a big no-no.

"What were you up to anyway?" Nero asked Trish, half out of interest, half out of needing to shut his babbling brain up.

"Oh, the usual. Still looking for a hint to Danzig's whereabouts. Hanging out with Johnny. Oh, and the occasional demon to slay. Naturally."

"Naturally." Nero repeated, slightly grinning to himself. "Sounds not too bad, minus the Johnny part, of course." It was an open secret, that Nero did not like Johnny and his loose mouth. Which wasn't really that out of the ordinary, for everybody these days seemed to sport that kind of feat. Yet, with Johnny things where different. That bastard always misused his powers to make fun of people. Mostly Dante had been on the receiving end and the man had no shame to account for, so him and Johnny shared a good laugh. But with Nero, things had ventured far deeper into privacy on more than one occasion.

And Nero did not take too kindly to it, setting him on par with Vergil. They both had sworn to the siren, that one day they would come and stuff his ridiculous banjo, which he named Clandestine for no apparent reason, up his sorry ass. He also liked to play from time to time for the sole amusement of his guests, to which people always reacted wildly. He was an enchanter all right and Nero didn't like people to mess withhis mind. So he stayed the hell away from that place, even if Johnny was mostly harmless.

"I knew you'd say that. Anyway, let's get back. It's freezing out here." Trish sped up immediately to underline her statement.

"No arguing there."

* * *

"Oh good. You found them." Dante did a flourish at his two favorite companions as of now, because they never did anything stupid and did as they had been told, what could not be said for the two wrecked figures, that waddled in behind them. As if it would help to shield them from his piece of mind, he had been preparing while waiting at his desk with a sour mood. Things have not been good today and on the receiving end where Nero and Devon, because Vergil had been nowhere in sight after the incident.

"Not good for you, though." Dante said in a low voice as his eyes took a gander at the the blood and torn clothes both kids sported.

Lady nodded towards the kitchen and Trish merrily obliged her silent request to get out of Dante's hair. He was pissed and not putting up a show to hide it for once. Before they left, they could briefly see Dante, without his usual swagger though, cross the room to stand right in front of Nero. The kid was in deep shit.

Nero stared back, chin held high, in order to show how empty those words were to him. Even if it wasn't solely for him, they were alive and had gotten rid of a horde of angels, to which Nero also thought, that they did a pretty good job and his work for Dante no less, since he planned on scheming with the riders instead of gearing into actions much needed, than grovel at the riders feet.

"Kid. I gave you a warning. I don't know what to do with you. I mean, don't I look out for your sorry ass all the time? And here you go and getting yourself almost killed, but dragging her into your mess as well? Are you out of your mind?"

"Is this the part where you tell me how disappointed you are?" Nero's sharp voice sliced the thickening air, and Dante swore he could hear the women in the kitchen simultaneously cooing 'Ohhh'. Dante's knuckles cracked loudly, as he squeezed his fists into tight balls, ready to punch some holes in God knows what. But his control was much better than that, when it cam eto Nero and lucky for him as well.

"Get out of my sight."

Nero blinked at him. He anticipated Dante to rampage, trying to cut his head off and screwing it back on straight. Needless to say, Nero twitched under the adrenaline he had felt bubbling up, when meeting Dante's furious eyes. The older man merely brushed past him without a second look and towards Devon. For her he had been more concerned than anything else. His anger dissipated under her devote stare.

Nero didn't move, not knowing what to really make of this. He was being ignored, and if that didn't sting more than the actual rant he thought to hear. It left him strangely empty. Unfulfilled. Craving. And under the action of blinking angry tears away, which no one could see, he came to a single realization. When they had come in, he wanted to get yelled at. He wanted the attention. All of it.

But now, with having nothing, not even a single look from the man, who was supposed to be his mentor, let alone friend, he felt the crushing feeling of a deep and dark disappointment. But Dante wasn't the one to blame alone. Nero knew, he had done something wrong along the way. And he couldn't come up with a solution to make it stop. The void within, that spread daily and he thought he had defeated, stared back at him and with full force.

Dammit. "Dante..."

"Zip it. I don't wanna hear it. In fact, I don't wanna hear anything coming out of you, until you cleaned up your mess, which is still there, mind you." Neither of them turned, when Dante spoke, but Devon swore she could see Nero heave a sigh or hiccup, while his shoulders slumped down.

Nero nodded, despite not knowing, if Dante could see it or not and then slowly trotted towards the stairs.

"Oh, and while you're at it. My room needs some tidying up as well. A quick sweep, if you will. Minor incident. Could have used you though, but not anymore."

Nero's head snapped around at that and he looked back over his shoulder trying to unriddle that one. His eyes only met Devon's and she saw they were reddened, like his cheeks. He looked so sad, Devon almost wanted to run over and hug him. But Dante's hands let that impulse die down from the start. Maybe he felt, what she was about to do. Maybe it was a subconscious thing. So, Devon did nothing and watched him turn without another word and go upstairs.

"I'm sorry, Dante." Devon apologized, after nero had left, avoiding his gaze altogether. "You know this was incredibly stupid. And what the hell happened to you? Are you okay?" Dante held her by her shoulders, staring into her face, looking for any signs of pain.

"I am. Just a few ruined clothes. Not that I mind, really." Devon inspected the rips in her jeans, where her knees now peeked out and then twisted her arms to see that the sweater did not fare any better, before she smiled sheepishly up at Dante with a shrug.

"If you say so. I'm just glad you're okay." He gave her another once over, assuring himself that she indeed sported no injury. Even if her knees had been scraped, much like her elbows he assumed, his eyes were met with nothing but intact skin through torn fabric. He sighed at how lucky she should feel. Or maybe she did know.

"Pesh saved me. Saved us both actually." Devon admitted in a small voice, letting Dante's eyes match the size of saucers.

"Is that so?" Dante asked genuinely surprised, then guided her in front of him and towards the kitchen. "Come on. Let's have a nice and long chat over a cup of coffee. I have the feeling I missed out on you."

"A coffee sounds good." Dante pursed his lips, confused at the sound of Devon's voice, which suddenly had grown exceptionally deep and raspy. His slightly confused brain failed him for a second as he looked down on her, wanting the find a complete sane explanation for this sudden change.

"Dante." The voice sounded impatient, however a tad bit amused. Plus, a deep sigh was added for good measure.

The use of his name, from a voice so familiar and friendly and so warm, did make him turn on his heel slowly.

Into focus came a dusty coat and layers upon layers of dark, but dirty fabric thrown carelessly over skinny shoulders and an even skinnier, but lanky and tall frame. Dante gaped at him, throwing his arms up. "Danzig...finally!"


	13. Revelations

Chapter 12

Revelations

* * *

 _Devon didn't know where she was or what had happened. All she felt was immense pain, like someone sticking his finger through her ringing ears right into her skull to stir her brain madly, like a bowl of baked beans._

" _Come on. Wake up, sleepy head." It was him._

" _Pesh..." It was barely a whisper, if anything at all. The voices were in her head, Devon realized, her own and his. It ached to think, let alone move a single muscle._

" _Yeah. Who else? Now, wake up. You need to wake up, now." He begged with his beautiful voice, so piercing it made her heart clench. And it left no doubt, that something had gone severely wrong. One second she had been in the car with Nero, the next everything went upside down, before plunging into a cold darkness._

" _I'm trying, really. Give me a moment."_

" _We don't have a moment." He sounded urgent and pleaded with all his might. "He won't survive this."_

 _He who? Then it hit her. "Nero..."_

" _That one, yes."_

 _Devon didn't know where to focus first, her limbs felt like a tangled mass of searing flesh and in addition, her mind threatened to slip from her grasp like sand through her fingers."I'm so tired...please..." And she still forced her eye open, scared out of her mind, when she saw him on all fours, screaming at the floating mass of white feathers and dull voices. "Pesh, help him...I can't do anything, not like this." Everything hurt, so much it made her sick to the broken bones. "Whatever you do. Just please, help him."_

 _And then she was pulled back into a numbing warmth, that soaked into her skin and bones._

 _Pesh had taken over control. Of her body. And of the situation. "I can't believe, I'm doing this. He's a demon..." Pesh clicked his tongue at her, sounding slightly disgusted as the word rolled off his tongue. Things where definitely going somewhat astray in these times he had woken up to. What in the heaven's name had the world come to?_

" _He's more human than that, and you know it."_

" _Stop arguing, I'm doing what I can under these limited options." He bickered back, and Devon found herself smiling, she couldn't hardly take him serious anymore. That snotty tone added up it to by far and wide._

" _Just do whatever." The retort was accompanied by a pinch of amusement.  
_

" _I got it." He remarked irritated, but his voice softened, feeling her weakened state all too much as he forced his life energy to form a version of himself around her, weaving it together with glowing light, until he felt the cool air and the wet rain on his skin, first time in centuries. And it felt damn good. "Just rest and sleep for a little while. Nothing's gonna happen to him."_

 _But Pesh couldn't help the last jab, before Devon would loose her conscience in order to heal painlessly. "You still realize you almost died again, if it weren't for me. He's not really that useful, demon or human."_

 _Devon huffed at how difficult he made this, plus he seemed to awfully enjoy himself no less, judging by the funny sneer that came through. "Be nice to him. He's the closest thing to a friend I had in a long time." Devon still tried to reason, but Pesh was already on the move and yelling at him, in between his whispers towards her._

" _I know, I know. Now shush. I need to concentrate and after that, tell him how he fucked up royally." After that everything had went silent around Devon and Pesh was out._

 _He had no time wondering about anything, but defended and then attacked to the best of his rusty abilities, which proved more than sufficient to beat his own race, that had tried to kill without any traceable remorse. He was disgusted by this and his rage unbound, he cut through them, showing what an ancient soul and one of their oldest brethren was capable of - even in this hilariously weakened state._

 _The demon-human hadn't suffered that badly and Pesh was sure he would survive, seeing his cursed blood working it's designed purpose. He could stand and already fight back. Good for him. If he only would have found his guts earlier. Pesh wasn't too sure how much he affected the human body, but the hybrid saw it, making a show out of it in telling Pesh so._

 _What an idiot. But it would seem, he was Devon's idiot, so he would have to deal with it. His host was more precious than anything else. And maybe him and his companions as well. Pesh knew it was their doing that made his awakening possible, unwillingly so and because of that even more respectable, for it showed heartfelt, noble and true intentions._

 _He had to give them credit, no matter the race they hailed from. These were really strange times, where angels killed humans and demons sided with the weaker race to protect. Pesh found it was hard to wrap his head around it to begin with._

 _But when he handed Devon over to Nero, he felt a vast sadness and guilt wash over him. There was something in Nero's eyes, that yet again sparked Pesh's curiosity. Was it remorse? So deeply rooted and massive, that it could last for a lifetime and further?_

 _But before there was anything happening to prove to Pesh, if he was right or wrong about his guess, a ripple went through the air. Something, or rather someone, had disturbed the fabric of the world's invisible barrier. It was unsettling how it went through the earth like a foreboding tremor of something far greater coming through, than those minor pests from earlier. Something big and powerful. Was it good? Or was it crazed, like the others?_

 _Before Pesh could think further, more people showed up, with the angel finding out, that there still were more demons around the half blood and not the hostile kind either. He couldn't wait to find out more about all of this. Last time he had checked, there had been a gruesome war between Heaven and Hell. But it appeared that this had been a very long time ago. Humanity was still there, but with those present in their middle, carrying the mixed blood, he didn't know, if that was good or bad. And if the angel race was so determined to kill, Pesh couldn't help but to get a very bad feeling._

* * *

Devon peeked from behind Dante at the old man, that Dante had called Danzig so fondly with a relieved sigh to boot. Devon knew she was right to assume it was _the_ Danzig Nero had told her about. A wise man, that might knew how to separate her from Pesh, if it was possible at all.

Devon glanced at him with a baffled expression, if anything he looked plain. His hair was gray and in slight disarray, sprouting thickly from atop his head and lead down to bushy, old fashioned sideburns. She saw deep lines of a long life carved into his skin, that was more ashen, than holding a healthy, rosy color. If anything, he looked tired and matted. Compared to him, Dante, his twin and Nero were the epitome of otherworldly capability, now that she thought of it. Powerful and filled with gleaming pride, that'll make one go blind, if looking to closely into their eyes. But Danzig just seemed tired to her.

His tattered, washed out black clothes hung loosely from his tall and very thin frame, she presumed he must have been close to starving at some point. Yet his croaky, but full voice did not show what he might have pinned down on his narrow shoulders, which seemed to have slumped under an invisible weight.

Dante's hand left her and he strode towards the new arrival to the already cramped house, widening his arms, which was mirrored as they both gave each other a short, firm hug. Dante looked like holding back though, not wanting to grind the old man into dust. And after they shared a heartfelt, quick embrace, pat on the back included, they gave each other a once over, both now grinning widely and Devon saw the relief in both faces.

"My dear boy." The affection it carried let it slowly sink in, how much Danzig had missed Dante. And Dante found himself transferred back right to the moment, where he first had met him, as it always felt, when they hadn't seen each other in a long time. The lonely boy on the streets, no father, no mother, no brother to cling onto, had been nothing more than a shriveled up body, lacking anything that a growing child should have and needed to survive, let alone one that was half demon. And from the thirty something eyes, it was this boy that stared back at Danzig with so much respect and love, the old man was sorry for having left months ago and without a single word.

"I apologize," Danzig said with a bow of his head, knowing it was the least he could offer. But Dante simply patted his shoulder. "You're here. That's all that matters."

"I heard you." Danzig informed the hybrid, who was mildly confused at the remark.

"Oh, so it did work after all? Well, what a nice surprise." Dante ruffled through his hair, not knowing how to react, because Danzig was scrutinizing him with a wary look.

"What did you do? I hope nothing dangerous or stupid?"

Dante could only chuckle, now fiddling about with his coat, eyes turned upwards, before rolling in their sockets.

"Why do you even have to ask? Though, this one goes entirely to Vergil, I have to say."

"Don't pry. You two will end up bickering, if you do." Danzig didn't miss a beat in his reply, though in the back of his head, it suddenly clicked together.

"Not that he can actually hear it, so I have to take up the opportunity." Dante shrugged, still feeling the telltale burn in his guts from his earlier outburst about the incident. And Nero did nothing but add up to his burning stomach acid bubbling up until he could taste the bitterness in the back of his throat. What a mess.

Dante huffed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather pants, to keep from wringing and breaking his own fidgeting fingers. "I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later."

"And how is our youngest one faring?"

"Please, don't ask." Dante finally turned, starting to get bothered by all the questions. If he had been here, he would have known.

"I see. Well, one problem I can solve for you. I saw Vergil on my way here. He didn't notice me and I'm sure, he wouldn't have bothered if he did-"

"Where?"

"In his usual spot." Danzig replied nonchalantly, before meeting Devon's gaze, finally. And there and then, without warning, he found himself speechless.

"Oh, this is Devon. I found her and took her in." Dante made it sound incredible simple, which immediately popped up a few questions. Nothing was ever simple with Dante. And the way she looked, it was hilarious to believe for one second, it was anything other than utterly complicated.

Devon awkwardly waved one hand at the old man, as his keen eyes landed on her. She did not see the force coming, with which it hit her - hard. His eyes were strange and she felt uncomfortably exposed under his gaze. The swirl of gold in brown went unnoticed by each of them, though. Yet, the bell in her head gave of a single light sound, which Devon acknowledged with a strange feeling of something bigger in the room, than her eye could see. But here it was, a power her weak form wasn't able to grasp, but Pesh was.

Danzig cleared his throat, astonished and thus lacking words. It would seem Dante had done a good deed once more in taking in such a pitiful creature. The first thing he naturally noticed was the bad state her face was in. And something itched in the back of his head. There was something off about the woman, but his inner vision seemed obscured. He knew Dante well enough, to assume he was very well aware of the unnatural force inside this human body, which made it over the more intriguing.

Finally, Danzig remembered to peel off layer by layer of his black lumps, happy to be able to shed the dirty clothes altogether. With the last layer unwrapped, Dante chuckled. "Now there's the Danzig I know."

"You wouldn't have thought, I'd walk around like a beggar willingly, did you?" The old man's eyes gleamed with mischief to him, revealing his expensive suit, one of so many, he was too lazy count any more.

And with the change of outer appearance, his posture seemed to change as well, as he stuffed his hand into the pockets of his dark and richly adorned blazer.

"No, of course not." Dante admitted, before he and Danzig turned their attention back to the young woman.

Devon stared back in a baffled state. She had not seen a suit, that looked so awfully expensive in her entire life. All those different patterns made her dizzy. But they went so well with each other, which came as a surprise. It looked like velvet and satin and other stuff she didn't know the name of, or couldn't quite remember.

Dante came over to her, face inching closer to find out the reason for that bewilderment that had caught a hold of her tongue. Devon inadvertently shoved his face away, for he was way too close for her liking. Dante puffed his cheeks out and upon contact, when Devon pressed her palm against the side of his face, he made a loud farting noise through pursed lips.

And it worked. Devon's eye focused back on him, at first displaying a comical display of horror and then she laughed. Dante really was one of a kind. In many and various crazy ways.

Dante knew the old man's stare all too well. It could hold you captive for as long as he deemed fit, searching for answers to questions, Danzig already had on the tip of his tongue, as far as Dante could tell. If anyone could unriddle the mystery of the celestial being trapped in a human body, Dante would put his money on his mentor.

Danzig closed the distance and held his hand out, meaning to great her properly, and like a lady deserved in his opinion. As soon as she offered her hand, Danzig breathed a kiss on the back of it, like a true gentlemen out of a book or a story she had heard somewhere in another life.

Mildly befuddled, she just watched and became amused, when he raised her arm and on her own accord she did a twirl on her heels, like she offered a dance and accepting it altogether with a giggle. This Danzig had a complete different feel to him and she couldn't think why, but this seemed like the appropriate way to react and just go with his gallant mood.

"Danzig." He introduced himself properly. "It is an honor. You're quite the beautiful lady, aren't you."

Devon had nothing to say to that, it came without warning. No one had ever called her that, actually. And he seemed genuine about it either. What a character.

There was one word in the back of her head, and the voice that whispered wasn't her own. _Chivalry_ it said. And Devon knew, where Dante had supposedly learned how to act the way he did around her. Danzig was a gentleman from head to toe, so much she could guess, funny enough.

Dante watched from the sideline with a very amused face, tongue in cheek to hide his grin. Danzig had a knack to get along with just everybody it seems. He could adjust to people like clay, molding his speech and gestures to fit each single one and make them as comfortable as possible. If this was only a rare gift or something he did completely on purpose and had mastered the ability from zero to outstanding, even Dante couldn't tell.

When he had been found by Danzig, that one day he'd never forget, he still marvelled how the old man had become everything Dante had ever wanted. An easy listener, a guiding hand on his back, pushing him forward, a punching bag for sour moods, a mentor befitting his heritage, a guardian for an unprepared teen and the most important thing now, a dear friend who had earned his trust in every way possible.

Danzig stared at Devon, harder than he'd normally do, but the only one noticing it was Dante. Something was off, but since his mentor didn't address it, Dante ignored the odd feeling in his guts and opted for keeping his mouth shut. For now.

The old man let Devon's hand slide off, but there was a strange longing, he couldn't yet pinpoint exactly. It vibrated in his innards and his head. He swore he could hear a faint bell. But that was from so long ago, he couldn't even remember for it was buried deep in his soul, it couldn't be. Not here.

Long gone.

Long lost.

* * *

Nero chewed on the inside of his cheek and his shoulders slumped, as he trudged along the hall way, wanting to find out what Dante had meant about his bedroom needing to be cleaned.

His poor mind was till spinning in the after effects of what had happened though, going so far to almost stub his toe on the door upon entry, which was strangely lying in the floor. At first Nero cursed. At the door and himself. And his busy mind, replying everything that happened until it came to a screeching halt.

The moment, he had leaned down to kiss Devon and how she had practically jumped out of his grasp.

Damn, that had hurt like he didn't know it ever could. But what the hell had he been thinking to do something like that anyway? He understood, that he had been relieved beyond doubt, but that did not justify anything.

Not this.

And now he was here, sulking over everything, not knowing what to do or what say. Neither to Dante nor to Devon. And where the hell was Vergil anyway, when you needed him?

Nero sighed and then Nero finally registered the chaos around him in the dark.

Just wow.

"What the hell...?"

He slowly made his way further in, making scrunching noises with his boots from all the broken glass and he beyond relief, he didn't pull them off, like he usually did, when he entered the shop. He saw the shattered mirror laying on the floor, the destroyed furniture, nothing was standing anymore.

A noise behind him made him turn on his heels. War leaned against the door frame, observing Nero with mild amusement.

"What happened here? Did you do this," Nero asked confused by his sheer presence, while scratching his bringer, which reacted to the imposing creature with a slight itch. Not unpleasant enough to be a bother, but not pleasant enough to ignore.

"The ritual went wrong." War informed him, indifferently so, as if this was an every day occurrence.

Though War had been through worse, so Nero didn't hold it against him, but the urge to stare, he couldn't fight either. "Ritual?"

"The binding of the mirror, Dante wanted to use to track Danzig down. His brother disrupted the spell and well..." He motioned around. "We had a few visitors." Like citing a boring poem in an unperturbed voice, that ground down on Nero's bewildered mood as it was.

"Damn." Nero muttered, getting the full picture and why Dante had said he would have been needed. But that was joke right? They seemed to have handled it pretty well. Not for the bedroom though.

"Nothing to worry about." War assured him and stepped inside, crushing the debris even more with his heavy boots. The noises ground down on Nero's already inflamed nerve ending. He clenched his bringer. "What did Vergil do?"

"I can't say, what befell him. He looked very distraught and just vanished." War explained further, inspecting the knocked over and broken shelves on the floor, before picking up random things to lay them on the only thing that survived the fight, a wooden drawer on the opposite wall, from where the mirror had been.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Nay."

Go, figure. Yet, Dante had seemed awfully calm and didn't even mention the fact that his brother had disappeared. So, maybe he hadn't been pissed off just because of him and Devon, but because of Vergil as well. However, this was all pure speculation, yet Nero wished to see Vergil, but now was not an option. Also, the red rider was in a favorable mood and Nero strangely found himself compelled by the creature, that veered in temper from his gloomier brother. His presence was calming actually.

"I've been charged to clean up behind you." Nero informed the rider, who gave him a puzzled look. "My apologies."

Nero gave off a small laugh. "It's alright. I do take my punishment like a man." He waved the rider off and walked over to the window, attempting to repeat the same procedure from before and just throw everything outside.

"Punishment?" War wasn't aware of the fact, that Nero had to be punished for something.

"It's a long story."

"I have time." War remarked, seeing Nero jump off the ledge of the window and a few screeching noises later, he came back in. The rider gave another puzzled look and peeked outside to see what Nero had done and his eyes fell upon the container under the window, understanding what the boy was about to do.

War flexed his hand and gave his gauntlet a brief shake, not minding to give Nero a hand. Death was brooding heavily and War welcomed the distraction by the younger version of the twins. He kind of had taken a liking to the impulsive pup. And right now, he didn't want to be in his brother's company and the foul mood he had been in since Dante had apparently failed his task to find Danzig.

With mild astonishment, Nero watched War haul various things through the window, without having to look. He grinned to himself at that, and was kind of surprised at how gentle the rider named War could be, going so far as to help him with this puny task to clean up.

Who would have thought?

So, in return, he obliged and told him about his assumed error and how he disobeyed a direct order.

"You got off easy, kid. When I once opposed Death, I lost my hand." Nero stopped dead and stared at him, then at the gauntlet, than back. "For real?"

War held his limb up so Nero could have a closer look. "He had this made for me after that. And our quarrel ended. I was at fault, he had been right."

"That's it? You weren't mad?"

"Oh, I was. But when you have done wrong, you have to make it right. And I know, he felt remorse for the deed. But I would have killed one of our own, if he hadn't stopped me. It was justified."

Some new light was shed on the riders and their story, which reached so far back, that Nero's head spun upon receiving this information the night, they had waited for Devon to recover.

"Well, that's one hell of a story right there." And it made Dante and his qualms pale in comparison.

"True." War chuckled.

They fell into a silence, walking in opposite circles to clean up furthermore and Nero was grateful he had someone to talk to and help actually. His mood wasn't as sour anymore. Everyone seemed to have their own small problems and burden to carry. And War did it with so much dignity apparently, that it didn't interfere with the bond he and his brother shared. The red rider had a lot of understanding or so Nero assumed. He had been wrong and he had accepted it.

"Did Dante say anything after this?"

War paused, a strange expression on his face. "Not that I know. He yelled for you in between the fighting, but that was all."

"He did?" War nodded and shrugged. "We were able to handle it though. No scratch was made."

Nero didn't understand a single thing. But War did. "He was concerned for you. And the other one."

"I could have handled it as well."

War chuckled at his cocky remark. "Sometimes it can't be measured with rationality. He cares. Maybe cares too much?"

Nero's mouth opened at him, gaping, which yet again made War chuckle. The boy was clueless, wasn't he?

And Nero shook his head. It did make sense. Dante always put everyone first and didn't care about himself much. War saw this clearly and Nero felt ashamed, it was indeed something entirely Dante. "You really think so?"

War threw a few more things out, before turning to him again. "I do. I know a thing or two about people acting one way and meaning the other. My brother died for me, though he'd never openly admitted just how much he cared. Dante is a bit different, but still good at masking his concerns. He carries a lot on his shoulders and aren't you his friend and should help him make it lighter?"

It was a truth, that Nero didn't want to hear. But being told straight to the face by the rider did it for him, something clicked. He never wanted to cause problems. Only that they stood as equals. But equals didn't treat each other like this. Nero knew, he was at fault, it was just so hard to admit. Yet, here stood War, spelling it out for him.

"He doesn't want me to. All I get told is to sit tight. Why doesn't he trust me?"

"That's not for me to answer. You should ask him yourself, if that is what you think." War's advice came easy, but with much reason. If he was asked a question, he answered as truthfully as he could, but making decisions for others was not within the small confinement of his code of honor.

"You're probably right." He would have to go and face the problem head on, if Dante would finally allow him to talk.

War suddenly perked up, and Nero felt it too, both a sharing a haunted look, letting everything fall and War first, swiftly dashing out of the room, with effects like an earthquake, like Nero didn't know he could, as he followed the tall red figure towards the source. His blood boiled under his prickling skin.

Nero crashed into War at the top of the stairs to the living room, but hastily shoved the mass of rider aside, not acknowledging Death, who stalked up behind them to see what this commotion was all about.

Time seemed to freeze, when Nero leaped down and was held back by Dante, who he just realized was there, too. All his blue eyes could focus on was Danzig holding Devon's hand.

"What's going on?" The fear in his voice was evident and Dante felt his initial anger dissolve with hearing it. So concerned.

Nero tried to shake his arm loose, but Dante held his upper arm like damn clamp. "Watch." He jerked his head towards Devon and Danzig, the glow now clear as day, and the feeling that Nero had upstairs, heightened. The most curious thing though, Nero noticed, he knew it. He knew it from Pesh. That sickening hope and unbearable courage, he knew he didn't deserve, bubbled up from inside.

Nonetheless, he followed Dante's gaze. His mouth opened, yet he was stunned into a stupor, tingling nerves over-flooded with a deep sense of foreboding.

A truth in Danzig's eyes, that swirled in rich gold.

Devon gave Nero a short pleading look, as she became aware of how everyone had seemed to gathered around, wanting to apologize. For what she didn't even know, but her heavy heart was about to break. The moment she had taken the hand of the old man in a proper greeting, it went haywire. Like her mind, her soul. Everything seemed to unbearable heavy and all she asked for was forgiveness.

Devon's eye spilled the tears, that had built up under the pressure of all the feeling inside. She didn't know anymore, if these were her own anymore. "Whose feelings are these? Mine? Yours?"

And as the bell started ringing, more chimed in until it became a choir deafening to her ears. Her eye watered even more under the painful sound, ringing like it was the last day of judgment. It brought Devon to one knee, pleading with all her might to let it stop.

And Nero heard it all, and it sounded to him like a mirror breaking and glass shards flying everywhere. It cut him mentally. He tried to lunge forward, wanting nothing more, but for Danzig to stop, whatever it was he was doing.

Dante jerked him back, able to guess every move from Nero's still sore muscles. Dante trusted Danzig. And it was enough to keep him still. And Nero with him.

"It's okay, kid." How one could sound so assured and commanding, making Nero's resolve crumble along with his worries, was beyond him.

Everything would be alright. And suddenly, by three words uttered, he believed. He wanted to. He had been the one, to tell Devon in the first place, that Danzig would know something. And something clearly was happening.

Yet, Nero couldn't remember a single time, he had ever felt this power coming from Danzig. Not one time. He was told, he was no human, yes. But no one knew exactly, what he was either and if the twins knew, they never let shine through.

Many pairs of eyes watched the transition there and then. One long and well guarded secret was revealed and another one, shrouded in time long ago, was found.

They found each other. Found each other after all those years of hopelessness, that Danzig had spent searching for him.

The moment, the old man had touched Devon, he had felt the familiar glow. Now was only one thing left to confirm it.

And so he called forth the angel, he had known for as long as the Heaven existed. His dear brother and companion, long lost and buried deep under rain and stone it would seem.

If this was fate, Danzig couldn't have asked for a much happier one, than being granted this moment, where he saw his brother again after years of punishment, they both had endured apparently. But Pesh was given the more crueler fate. Danzig felt his tears sting and fall free. So long. So much time had passed.

And tears streamed down Devon's face as well, as it slowly turned into the Pesh, who cried and sobbed like a small boy, finally finding light after a long dark night plagued by vicious nightmares.

And Danzig felt like the morning sun hit his face for the first time, standing upon the highest tower of the White City and looking out beyond the pale with his brother by his side, to relish in the warm light of a peaceful day in Heaven when the realm had been young.

Though Pesh didn't remember Danzig to look so old, he had felt it right away. And with the power of another in the same room and the touch of a hand as strong as his own, from virtue to virtue, he was able to manifest. Not out of fear this time, but out love and the bond, which had never been severed, not by his punishment nor time that had passed.

To behold such a sight, of two angels, who had fallen low on Earth, pierced the heart of every being in the room and they fell into a solemn silence upon being able to witness, what not many had witnessed before. Old and young at the same time. Power and kindness. Heart and soul, brighter than the sun could ever shine and making them happier with feeling of a deep love seep out from them, into the stone and brick, into the wood and plank, into the air around and into their own bodies. Everything and everyone soaked it up, like yearlong dry deserts, finally granted with a cataclysm of rejoicing rain.

Greens and golds. Blues and whites. Bells now ringing, hailing from a realm, only the pure can set foot on, many pictures were conjured into each heart, not all happy, but from happier days, making the heart leap and frantic all the same.

Nero felt like having the opportunity to hold Kyrie's hand one last time and being able to say sorry.

Dante felt his brothers embrace, his mothers voice telling both of them, how much she loved them.

Every person in the room had a powerful memory or a wish unfulfilled and in the grace of the two angels, were able to dream their innermost thoughts, even if only for a short while. A blink of an eye with a wink of pure happiness. It was all they got, sadly.

It was as beautiful to experience as it was frightening. Because it was like getting broken and mended together, only to come face to face with the plain truth, that it was only hazy picture in their minds, a reaction of the heart to the virtues before their very eyes, which they all wiped in disbelief, and all there was left, was to wait for the stinging pain in their chests to subside.

For Nero, the angels he had encountered earlier, paled in everything to being exposed to this. And by the look on Dante's face, he didn't know either, that Danzig revealed himself to be one of them.

As for Dante, he licked lips and then clicked his tongue. It all fell into place now. There never had been a doubt, that Danzig was something powerful and always had been. But him being an angel only now made sense. Why he knew Lucifer so well. Why he knew everything and had a damn solution and wise words to spare.

Old might not even be a sufficient word anymore to describe Danzig. Ancient was more like it. An ancient soul in the human world, giving himself an occupation as trader, to which Dante had never had rhyme or reason to offer, but Danzig could bet his angel ass on it, that Dante had a lot questions and right there and then he wanted them all answered.

But Dante, nor the others saw Danzig any longer. Not the Danzig everyone knew at least. But the Danzig Pesh knew. As tall as he was, but the slim figure no longer seemed like a birch in a storm, but like the storm itself. A storm of golden and brown wavy hair reaching to his thighs, a face that grew younger and hard lines softened and eventually vanished, the longer each person looked. The bulky nose slimmed and was chiseled to a sharper version. His lips thickened and straightened, like his overall posture. The old man had disappeared and an older Pesh version stood tall and broad in his place.

And Dante did not find anything, that equaled his persona, except for the other angel in the room. He couldn't believe his father figure to look his own age at all. No way. Old man his ass.

"Pesh. I was looking so long for you. So long." New Danzig wept through closed eyes, as he held Pesh by his arms.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The blonde boy replied under heavy sobs, resting his forehead on Danzig's chest, while the old man moved his right hand to Pesh's neck and kissed his golden locks. "I didn't know, if the curse befell you as well. I just assumed, but since you disappeared on that day, where we were about to face our punishment, I thought you might have met a more gruesome fate. I asked our siblings. I asked the wardens, no one knew what had happened." Danzig cried out of sheer joy, trying to comprehend, that this was truly his youngest brother he held here in his arms centuries later.

He felt the soft hair under his chin and warm skin under hand, the heavy breaths against his body, with which Pesh exhaled his sobs. He even felt the wet tears soak into the fabric of his clothes.

It was real. It was all real.

But it made him wonder about the day, Pesh had vanished.

They both held each other, until the initial shock wore off and the tears finally subsided and dried. One last crushing embrace, which Pesh received gladly, they smiled at each other.

Danzig told the younger man to calm down and tell him everything that had happened, while the rest of the room still sat in astonished silence to the revelations and turn of events, as both told the story, of how they had been punished for the interaction upon first contact with the young human race. And Pesh was finally able to fill in the gaps, that he had left, as he vanished and Danzig, along with his remaining siblings, had been cast out of the realm forever.

Pesh had returned to the city, to ask for forgiveness and plea for the souls of his siblings, the seven manifested virtues, the highest rank of angels. He made many valid reasons known, as to why they had ascended to earth, curious for the new and young race of mankind. But the Creator, jealous of the love the angels had shown for them and certainly thinking it diminished the love for him.

But the circumstance that truly infuriated him and brought his wrath down on the seven angels, had been that he saw his creation tainted. Altered into something he did not see fit. They learned already too much in so little time, ready to wage war among them, and pinned this crime solely on the angels.

This he told Pesh, that he and his brethren may suffer for these actions and see the full consequences of their tampering and forever be damned to live with this regret. That they had taken something pure and innocent and in their pride had modified their course of evolution throughout the ages to come.

The Creator had turned from the human race, not able to take away what the angels had unleashed. And Pesh cried bitter tears, seeing his fault, but pleaded still for his and his siblings to be send down and make amends.

The Creator laughed at his naive request, for it would take forever to right every wrong that followed in their wake and premature eagerness to teach humanity. It would be a menial and futile task. So many humans, giving birth, living and dying in a mere blink of an eye for the immortal beings and in their hasty lives their knowledge exceeded by far and wide for they had so little time on earth, before their souls were collected and reborn, that they learned, eagerly passing it on a mere flash in their short lifespans.

Pesh still cried, but now openly opposed his Creator. He would still want to try. And for his vain words he was cursed. For his unrelenting will to still wanting to help the tainted humanity, the Creator had forsaken and doomed already to become their own worst enemy with the angels at fault.

"If you so want to be with them, I grant you this one wish you voiced so fiercely. And your siblings alike. None of you should ever venture beyond the sacred walls of the White City again. This is the verdict your existence will forever be bound to by my will. You will exist within the confinement of humanity, never to return."

The other virtues were simply banned from the realm, but Pesh awaited a more cruel fate, for his disobedient try to plea for forgiveness and persuade the Creator to grant absolution.

He took Pesh's soul from his living body, and it withered and decayed into ashes and dust. No trace of the beautiful angel of compassion had been left, but a naked flame, hurting the unveiled eye in it's purest form of existence. The Creator, in his sardonic wrath, adhered the uttered plea in a twisted sick sense and planted the soul into a human, weaving a curse to never be able speak and see. Only to feel the human life being consumed, by the very being inside, to wither and die and adding up to all the regrets the angel needed to endure.

Then his soul would be bound to the next being, having to watch the same thing happen. Over and over and over. Until the worlds would cease to exist.

Even when the judgment day came early and Death and War fought for it's preservation, the curse wasn't broken. The human with the angel soul at that time lived to see another day and then everything was amended by Death as he redeemed his brother and the reality started anew, like the apocalypse didn't happen. That was the doing of the Council, still not knowing, the Creator had left them for good.

So, Pesh traveled the earth half asleep in a haze. The curse was a tricky thing, for it accounted many circumstances to actually trigger the soul into coherent thoughts. It had to be met with the same compassion it stood for. And further on, the human had to endure all the bad things the world had to offer, shortening the life span drastically by always meeting an untimely end, whether by accident or from the divine being burning away the life from the inside, neither of those outcomes the sleeping angel inside could prevent, even if holding the actual power to it.

It would take ages for Pesh to finally be embedded in the very body, that could withstand this curse of madness to be drawn in by it's magic. A string of mere coincidence it would seem, as he finally awoke in the city of rain and stone. Capulet City was the most doomed and wretched place on all earth, yet strangely a place that harbored and nurtured souls of the righteous, ready to conquer all of the billowing mass of nefarious and wicked hearts.

And so it happened, he became aware of the most untypical being, that his host could have come across. A hybrid, harboring an evil menace inside his undying body. A golden heart beating in his chest, loud enough to rouse him from his deep sleep. A most unlikely creature, curious blue eyes, searching for something within he did not yet know, it was there yet.

Like opposite ends of magnets, they drew each other in, not knowing why. But the blazing soul inside finally had found it's liberator, among the most unlikely beings that walked the face of the earth. Only two existed. And Pesh awoke, meeting the demon hunter they called Dante. Greatest warrior on earth. Strongest being to boot. And the brightest and keenest soul he had ever came across. For a demon-human mix.

Though no one could see past the mask of humor and charm, Pesh could feel it vibrating deep within. The sole drive of a passion rooted from a tormented soul and the loss of a brother. Twice.

Making his amends to right the wrongs of father and son alike. A heavy burden to shoulder and yet he did so without a solid complain. Showing compassion for others and selflessness no less. Saving Trish, because he would not see one life wasted for him. Saving his brother from depth and torment alike. Saving Nero from himself. Pesh saw it all within the hunter.

And the first being in years to care for the woman who had stubbornly so, giving up on life, until she found out, that maybe not everything had been her fault and was not in her powers. It happened because the curse triggered on every turn, worsening things and defiling them beyond recognition.

But Dante proved to be the obstacle that finally made Pesh blaze into awareness, ready to safe the life of the being harboring and nurturing his consuming fire with a fierce drive to live. Even if the intention was buried under rubble and dust that had crumbled down on it for many a year. The better half 26. Which was not even long enough to take a breath for an angel. Pesh, feeling sorry for all the pain his curse inflicted, called forth the life force of his own, feeding it to the soul and rose her from the dead under the watchful blue eyes of the twin, that just seemed as tormented as his brother.

* * *

Everyone stared at new Danzig, who stood in all his dignity at the centre of the living room, while everybody else had taken up a seat - Nero as far away from Devon as possible, for it seemed Dante had taken it up to occupy her for the time being. He gritted his teeth at that, but on the other hand, thought it for the better.

The further away he was, the lesser he would have feel that ominous presence of cock angel inside her. Or at least, that's what his itchy arm was telling him, though it could be the proximity to the riders, that had taken spots with him on the couch.

Everything did not sit right with as soon as he had spotted them both at Dante's desk, with her in his swivel chair and him leaning against it next to her. He couldn't get it out of his head, but at the same time cursed himself for even trying. He simply felt remorse. And even now, it would seem that Dante and Devon shared something else, that he hadn't seen until now.

Or his brain was playing tricks on him, for he felt deeply distraught, at how he could have forgotten about Kyrie for the first time, as he had been with Devon. It nagged on him and he didn't know, as to feel sad or angry. It bubbled inside him and he finally came to the conclusion, that he was mostly mad at himself and for having Devon pushed at him by Dante only to get her pulled away, the second he showed up and, purposefully or not, took up all the spotlight.

Yet, his memories and wishes had been forced out and he had to feel the pain of loosing Kyrie all over again, as if he could forget anyway. But this had felt so real, not like a dream at all. His anger, as he had to face this and having it ripped from the darkest place he could find and drag it out into plain daylight, hadn't vanished. It was cruel, yet he had only to blame himself. Or Devon. Or them both. He wished for the first time, Dante hadn't brought her in at all. Because he wouldn't have to blame himself any further and feel guilty about that silly half kiss, he now was glad about didn't really happen. How could he ever face Kyrie and Credo, if he had a chance like the conjured up dream had suggested, with having betrayed her? The answer was simple. He couldn't.

Nero subconsciously gritted his teeth. However, he was relieved, that Devon didn't get the chance to address the issue between them, if there was an issue at all left. So, Nero told himself to simply forget it ever happened and was able to calm his burning conscience. It simply wasn't right. It would never happen. He wouldn't let it.

Danzig had been talking and Nero only slightly paid attention, still worrying where the hell Vergil was and why no one cared. Truth be told though, the older twin did this sometimes, when he felt like it, only to just pop back up. And Dante never bothered, because he seemed to trust him and know he would turn up eventually.

But what War had revealed earlier gave the situation a different aspect. Why had Vergil been mad in the first place?Something only Dante might knew.

"The White City is our enemy as of now. Azrael has fallen, killed by his own. The angels look towards earth for revenge it would seem. The Crowfather seems to believe this as well. And who knows what Hell is up to?"

"Is the Crowfather alright," Deaths asked, showing some worry for the old wise man, who had supported him in every way possible. The Tree of Life and the Well of Souls were now left to his watchful eyes only, though even in death, he still held a lot of power as Danzig had confirmed. A wielder of ancient magic and a secret in itself he was.

Danzig furthermore had told them of his venture to the Eternal Throne and his bargain with Draven, which was a surprise to almost everyone and a proof at how much Danzig actually thought ahead in his wisdom. Yet again, Death voiced out his approval and acknowledged it as obligation to let Draven have his place, if he truly heeded the call to arms, when it would come.

"Well, it's official now. A new Council has to be formed, for the power of the old one must be inherited. Or we could seal it away, but to what end? Only to have the worlds at war once more over it. The balance must be preserved." Death droned, with all eyes wide on him, except for Danzig's.

Dante laughed from behind his desk. "Who would be so suicidal and do that? For all I know, the last Council didn't stand a chance to you and your lot."

"It was corrupted beyond redemption. We are not." Death replied harshly, defending his decision. "It is necessary. And after we have moved the Vault of Abominations to a more secure place with the help of Danzig, we will have to find people worthy and willing to take up this surmountable task. And we have to see to it, that Azrael did not perish in vain, as he might had fallen for this and by the betrayal of the angels no less. This is a crime, that cannot go unpunished. He was a noble soul and always in tune with the balance, adhering it with utmost loyalty."

"I vote for Dante." War piped up, in a voice so devoid of mockery, it earned him a few raised brows. That now was a thing to always be remembered. All eyes turned to Dante, who held up his right hand as veto.

A deep silence crushed the room, before Dante let out a throaty groan. "Wait a second."

He was ignored by Death, who gave War a warning look. This wasn't the time to argue about a topic he wanted to push back to a later and more suitable time. First and foremost the vault issue had to be solved, with everyone else, not needed for that, dispatched to seek out how these angels had found a way to travel to Earth. But the answer he already could guess and it only needed confirmation. "War. Not now."

"Who says, I want to be on that Council of yours?" Dante talked right over Death's growl.

War turned his head away from his brothers fuming eyes, and went on, ignoring Death altogether. "It is not a matter of want. It is a matter of obligation. The most powerful beings, who have sworn themselves to protect, should heed the call and do what they must."

"I never pledged myself to anything," Dante muttered.

"So, you're doing this for your own sake? The better." War couldn't help, but chuckle.

"I'm doing this because, that's what I can do." Dante shrugged, feet on the table and arms crossed over his cheat, to come off as unimpressed as possible.

"And there is your answer then," the Red Rider concluded satisfied from armored head to foot.

Dante sighed, casting his eyes down. "Not a chance. This is all yours, buddy."

"We will see, if you can turn your head away, when the first onslaught of both heaven and hell hit the human world without protection of the council."

"I just don't see, why you can't form it without me."

"Because it needs people like you, able to feel compassion and remorse and judge and act accordingly. It is hard to come by any powerful souls these days, that has not suffered from corruption."

"Enough." Death barked at War and Dante alike. "This will have to wait, until we have everyone assembled."

"Huh. Now, I'm really curious." Dante all but spat sarcastically, slightly unnerved and utterly overwhelmed about War's proposal. Dante really couldn't see himself in such a position. He held enough responsibilities already and didn't need the problems of all creation on top of it. He was a demon hunter, nothing more. If he indeed had pledged himself to anything, it was this occupation and nothing else.

And sometimes he wished that the only responsibilities he had, was choosing between double cheese on the pizza or not.

Hell and Heaven could rot for all he cared. Plus, he thought, that the riders were more fit to fill in those excruciatingly big shoes. He couldn't even fill his fathers, not that he ever tried. Or did he?

"There's another thing, we need to worry about." Danzig veered their attention away from Dante and towards Devon.

Nero could only stare at the things that unraveled before him. Dante was held in so high regards to be offered a position of unimaginable power, once granted by the creator himself. And deep in his heart, Nero knew why.

Because Dante was a good person. Simple as that. And it seemed, that simple was a magic thing these days. They could argue about him all day and still sum him up in one word at the end of it.

Kind.

Dante's motivations still were lying somewhere in the dark, as to why he did what he did. Yet, Nero knew, that Danzig had made a great impact on him. And the old man was just as mysterious to him. Yet, he never tingled his demon senses nor did anything that roused suspicion altogether. And Nero knew, he was sitting in the middle of events, that determined the fate not only for them but apparently for everything that was ever there and would be.

He heaved a sigh, feeling very small in this moment, a pebble under their shoes. But he was aware he wanted to do something as well. His conscience demanded it from him. He credited it to Kyrie and Credo, who both had shaped him into the man he wanted to be. And Dante and Vergil had taken up the rest to cement that determination in his soul, which wanted righteousness and goodwill to spread about. But under it all, he felt like he belonged here, even if he felt small compared to them. Then he needed to grow, simple as that.

If they'd only let him. And he'd prove to them he could. He knew he was a goodhearted person. They had told him over and over until he believed it. He deserved to live, even if others that deserved it too, didn't survive. It was his responsibility to keep their memory and honor it. And that he had learned from Dante as well, who had given him everything and asked nothing in return than to be a good person.

Easy as that.

Nero met Dante's eyes and as if the older hunter could read the sadness in his heart. He just gave Nero a subtle nod, which he returned. Was it all good? Were they okay?

It would seem so. And Nero felt relief wash over him and calm his mind and unknot the tangled mess in his stomach he didn't know he had up until now. And wasn't Dante one to protect them all. If there was a vote, like War had him assume, Nero would give his to Dante without question. He had pulled him out from deep desperate times. He couldn't see, why Dante wouldn't manage to do this for a whole world. Yes, Dante could do this. If he wanted to.

Danzig's loud voice pulled them all in without a warning. And it still needed some getting used to to, because it sounded well oiled like a new hinge, not croaky and squeaky any longer, not to mention, he had turned from old geezer, to commanding and condemning handsome, at least by evaluating the stares he received from all women in the room.

"I was presented with a riddle a long time ago. A very long time ago, where the world had just been born into it's splendid existence. I was punished for my love along with my siblings. At last, I have found my brother. And we won't see this world fall. We still don't know exactly what the curse is made of, but we are able to finally summon all the virtues now that Pesh is with us."

* * *

Dante stared at the remnants of the former tower of devils, pinpointing his brother right underneath the top peak in one of the many stone windows. Motionless as it would seem and no Yamato in sight. Good.

Dante left the bike where he stood, feeling very much unhappy he had to take it in the first place. Dante was not happy about the car being wrecked. On that note, he also was not happy that Nero had taken it without him knowing. He was not happy, that Vergil still occasionally lingered around Temen-ni-gru. Dante felt the air heavy and thick around him. He was not happy about that either.

Dante was not happy at all. With anything at this moment and with a disgruntled noise, he began the steep climb, which gave him time to think. Not that he wanted to to.

Danzig had very much kept a huge secret from him the entire time. And why? Dante didn't know. His gut feeling told him, the former old man must have had his reasons, yet Dante couldn't help to be pissed, even so he knew he shouldn't. His inner devil had another opinion about that, though.

Dante remembered the violent outburst, thank to the nuisance right above his head. And he also knew, his brother was nothing but a stranger to him after all. Whatever caused Vergil to leave, Dante had no clue. For the better half of six month, when Nero had arrived wet, undernourished and a straight mess overall, he thought things would finally turn out fine. But what he remembered of Vergil was nothing compared to the person he tried to share his life with right now. He thought he knew how Vergil ticked, but that was apparently not the case.

Vergil was a brooding walking ghost. Yes, he did join in on jobs, more than willingly actually, but that was just it. They rarely talked, like really talked about things in general. It was only a current situation, that arose or nothing. Vergil lived secluded from him and Nero, though he was a bit more accessible to the younger man, which had surprised Dante, after Vergil's initial attempt to break Nero after the fall of the false savior.

In the end it went well, under the difficult circumstances, because Dante had harshly refused to end another life. Vergil's, Nero's and that of an innocent host. Hadn't Vergil agreed upon this, Dante would have still subdued him, this was the plain truth. Maybe Vergil had agreed because of that. It was a common trait they shared, a stubbornness, which rivaled everything else.

Well, it was a given, Vergil had changed and Dante could only assume, what he had endured. And he simply had nothing to talk about, for the last ten years he had spent in the depth of hell itself. And Dante had stopped asking altogether, when Vergil refused him answers.

All he knew, Dante coaxed from Nero, who had a pretty sharp insight in his twin, courtesy of having to share his body with him for a while until their thoughts bled into each other and Nero hadn't been sure, if he had been still himself, or if it had been Vergil's wrath he felt driving through his mind and guts like a corkscrew. And it had added fuel to the fire, the rage that came from seeing his girlfriend die, her brother and almost himself.

Dante wished he could have been the same, that he had been for Nero, but Vergil's pride was much stronger, than to turn to his brother and confide in him. He always resorted to to keep quiet. And there was the reason, Dante was pissed at Vergil. At Danzig and at Nero. They all let Dante wander around in the dark. Dante hated it from the bottom of his heart. And when War dropped the bomb on him, he wanted to yell at all of them to stop assuming, that he'd be willing to always pick up the pieces behind someone. Yet, and here he almost laughed, he'd always find himself jumping in head-first.

Fortuna was thanks to Lady and Trish, but Dante had never second-guessed their choices. Especially Trish knew, that Dante wanted to find Yamato so badly, because he always wished to find a way to save Vergil impossible at it may had seemed and though his twin had always given the impression he never wanted to be saved.

No thanks. No word of gratitude, but hey, on the bright side he never left, though Dante had given him the choice. And Vergil had spited him, giving his best sneer, that he still needed to remember so many things, it was best to stay put.

Did Vergil figure things out? Did he find, what he had been looking for, whatever that was? Was Dante no longer necessary? Was it that? He would soon find out hopefully, though he was afraid. Did he want to find out? Or rather chain his brother to his side forever? If their was a solution, Dante would have given it, but no more sacrifices. Not from him, nor from anyone else.

Dante arrived at the top, where Vergil stood on the ledge of a broken window, relatively calm, looking over the fast asleep city.

Dante felt like walking down memory lane and it certainly didn't help to improve his mood, as he balanced along the tricky edge of the broken tower to occupy another window next to Vergil, who didn't even appear to have taken notice. But that was just Vergil's way of saying to leave him the hell alone.

Well, tough luck.

"Vergil." Dante acknowledged, as he sat down and let his legs dangle over the ledge, watching tiny pebbles fall over the ledge and into the depth below.

"I'm done with this." Vergil growled out of nowhere, Dante couldn't see his brothers face, yet he could perfectly envision it nonetheless.

"You kidding? Like you could go anywhere." Dante snapped back, not in the mood to flaunt his usual coolness around. He was done with it as well, and Vergil would figure this one out quick enough. Dante had a temper, yet he was so much better at suppressing it at this moment.

"And that's exactly the problem. This isn't the way I'm supposed to be. At your mercy." Dante sighed at his brother, as he admitted the gist of his problem. Dante should be glad, Vergil opted to spill the beans rather then to enshroud everything in unnerving silence, but Dante could only stare at the world below. A world, where they both belonged, and he didn't give a damn how.

"Vergil, I had no choice. It was the only option available at that time," Dante sounded impatient, and the underlying warning reached Vergil effortlessly. His brother was a master at disguising his feelings, just like he himself was. But when Dante grew frustrated, Vergil could hear it vibrate in his voice, as much as he wanted to hide it. Or maybe he didn't want to any longer. Of so, that was a change.

"Was it really? Or did you want to calm your guilt and have your brother back? Because, I don't care." Vergil was testing his brother. Why he wasn't even sure.

Dante almost thought the same. What did Vergil want to hear? That it had been a mistake? "You don't mean this. Should I just have sent you back to hell then? Is that what you want?"

"You knew exactly what I wanted."

Dante rubbed his face and wiped the raindrops off while he did, before he tried to catch a glimpse of his brother. But all he saw, was a bit of coat, waving in the wind and dripping from the damn rain. Vergil probably stood with his signature straight back, unblinking and immobile like a statue of impeccable, but cold hard stone. "Yeah, I couldn't let that happen, you know this. You would have ripped Nero apart and left his mind in shambles. And he didn't deserve it. Not that I believe, you would have done it in the first place."

"Don't be so assured. You said it yourself, I was going crazy. And I would have taken the boy over eventually. All you had to do was turn away and let me."

Dante couldn't believe his ears, so he did the only reasonable thing, he laughed, yet there was no glimpse on any happiness in it. "You don't believe that. You'd never done this to Nero. Because you know, he deserves better."

Vergil finally moved, his hands behind his back ruffled through his wet hair to put it back in place, while he gritted his teeth at Dante and his insufferable assumption, Vergil would care."I would have given him peace. And he wouldn't have to suffer like he did. It would have been quick and painless." Maybe he did. Nero would have been better off dead than this winy mess, Vergil had to endure for month, with sleeping on the kitchen next to the humming fridge, because the noise had seemed to calm somewhat down to finally fall asleep among the trash, that had littered the kitchen, top to floor at this point.

It had been awful to experience someone so in a disarray and out of control, Vergil wanted to kill him at some point and free him from a life of torment and guilt. One night, Vergil had rested along Nero in his mind, he had a strange dream, which was curious in itself, for Vergil never had dreamed a single time since Temen-ni-gru. And from that night forth, Vergil had the same reoccurring dream, loaded and enhanced through Nero's guilt, of the fateful night and the attack on their family mansion. And his little self cradled Dante in his arms, whispering his name over and over, trying to calm him and his screams,a s they watched it all burn. Their mother, their life, everything they had knows ascending in embers and bitter smoke, until ashes rained down on their heads, as they had fallen asleep from exhaustion and cold.

And Nero had see it all, and thus he was reminded of Dante. And how strangle close he had felt to the hybrid, almost like knowing him. This familiar feeling had spurned Nero on, to finally pack and leave. What had been left anyway? Nothing but silence, sadness and two graves.

Vergil couldn't assess the consequences at that time. But now he could. He should have taken action and never would have ended like this. Where he still found the strength and that little ray of hope, he could end his own suffering, was beyond him. Yet, he had endure ten years in hell, so wasn't he stronger than this? Wasn't his pride still there?

"Vergil..." Dante sighed at him, as he softly spoke his name. Maybe there it was. The hope he he had. Though he still felt bitter about it, he of all people should know better. Dante had tried to find him ever since, did he not? It took him long enough, but Vergil knew better than to give up hope.

"Spare me your pity, your remorse. I don't want it. But, I can't live like this either. I'd rather die than be in this incomplete state forever."

"You always said, you were incomplete in the other state." Vergil's eyes went wide, finally peeking around the stone wall, that separated them from each other, much like he did peek from time to time through the world and state that separated them as well. Vergil was still here, while Dante had progressed. But who said, it was over? It never was over, until he wanted it to be over. And that day would never come, that was what Vergil's pride told him right now. Maybe the years in hell had dulled his emotions down, but sometimes they flickered, like tiny stars in an else pitch black dark. If he squinted hard enough, he could see it. And Dante still believed him, after all he had done. Did Vergil think it was foolish for his brother to act like this? Why did he never gave up? Because Vergil never had given up, either, maybe that's why.

But the bitter taste from ash and sulfur never truly left him. This world seemed as gray and ashen as the next to him. And he blamed it on Dante and the state he was in. A being neither here nor there. In between and never truly somewhere at once.

"Maybe. But I will never find out now, if I truly and still feel like this. You are the picture perfect knight in shining armor. And for you to despise your demonic side and all the power that came with it, right now you're doing a shitty job of upholding that appearance. Admit it Dante, that night I changed everything for you. Without relying on your devil's power, you would have joined me shortly after in hell."

"You changed the both of us. And all I can say, I'm still not happy about it. But I can make the best of it, which I am. Pops would have wanted this."

At this, Vergil snarled suddenly. It never occurred to him, Dante remotely cared about him. It had always been a touchy subject, Dante tried to dodge like vegetables on a pizza – fiercely. Last time Vergil checked, Dante insulted everything their father had done with words, though when Vergil looked closely, he wanted to sneer back at him. Dante's actions truly spoke a different language.

"Don't you dare talk about him. You never gave a rats ass about him all those years and you still know nothing. Don't make it a matter of heritage now. This is all you. You and your savior complex. It's sickening."

Now it was Dante's time to drop the friendliness. Vergil and his damn pride, he sucked off the memory of their father was as sickening as his own so called savior complex. Not to mention it reminded him of Fortuna, and there was nothing further from his mind than to end up like that geezer. He wasn't the type that wore crazy well. It clashed heavily with his uptake of laziness and the flawless depiction of it.

"What would you have me do then? If I release you, you'd be going straight back to hell. Besides, this town needs protection or it just would go to hell itself and drag everybody with it."

"I don't care. The angels have every right to get rid of it." Vergil's temper flared with Dante's words.

"Not on my watch, Verge. I like being here." As if Dante needed anything to justify his actions. Danzig raised him better than this. A job, their father should have done, but only abandoned them for all he knew at a crucial time no less. But every story has different sides. And Dante involuntarily had learned a thing or two about Sparda. And there were many things that still didn't sum up in his opinion. But he didn't feel like addressing any issue concerning right now and regretted immediately for bringing him up. Vergil always had a weak, and blind, spot when it came to him.

"We'll see how that turns out, won't we, " Vergil admonished darkly, and adding a huff for good measure.

"So, you're gonna stay," Dante asked, while carefully getting back on his feet and dramatically dusted himself off. As if he ever cared, how he looked anyway.

"You say it, as if I had a choice." One last jab, but even Vergil sounded tired at this point.

"You do. I'm always giving you a choice, brother, if you hadn't noticed." Dante made it past the wall, that had separated them, looking Vergil dead in the eye, while he spoke. And his brother didn't blink, when he replied.

"Don't expect me to thank you. You don't know what it's like. I though I could accept. I did. But not anymore. Not when everyone's moving and I am stuck like this." In Vergil's defense, Dante expected nothing less from him. And it wasn't in Vergil to break his character so easily. Whatever had been before Temen-ni-gru, this was a different world and a different Dante to Vergil. He always was on his toes around him, mainly because there was some fierce in Dante's eyes now and then, that Vergil still tried to figure out.

"What do you want me to do then? Fight me?" It was meant random, and they way Vergil averted his eyes, he knew he had won. But Vergil wasn't handing his defeat over without a last sting. Another thing, Dante remembered. Though naturally, the wound on his had healed, twice, but at times like these, he still felt the pain, though it traveled to his chest more or less.

"Don't be foolish. I'm nothing but an echo of my former self. I couldn't beat you. One snap of your fingers and I'd be at your feet." If Dante didn't know better, he could have sworn Vergil sounded almost amused.

Dante grinned to himself, as they stood next to each other, eyes scanning the distance, than to look at each other. And Dante felt his heart a bit lighter.

Whatever Vergil had done, Dante never found it in himself to hate him. Or even stay mad for long. He was his brother. And there had been a time, they truly had been close and nearly inseparable. Yet, Dante knew after all that happened, they may never make it back to that time. Though, it wouldn't keep him from trying.

And with that, Dante knew he had been too harsh on Nero. But he was such a damn kid, that still didn't know half of what's like to be a hybrid and have the Sparda blood flowing through his veins. A man hated by an entire realm, so they needed to be prepared always and ever. And Nero had a lot to learn. Yet, when Dante could go so easy on his twin, he could be going a bit easier on his little brother by heart as well.

Vergil might be the wiser out of the two of them, but Nero had guts and fire. Things Dante equally shared, but also had many years to shape and beat his inner devil into submission and his feelings at bay. Nero didn't. That was the whole problem. And he was sure, Nero still had that inner devil somewhere in hiding. They only needed to find it.

Nero only needed guidance, that should have been the first and foremost thing. Dante might not be a good teacher, he would leave that to Vergil, but he cared a lot and would kill for Nero. He was only sad, that the boy seemed to forget from time to time.

All they had was each other.

"You know I wouldn't. That's not my style. If I want to beat your ass, I beat your ass fair and square. Or you mine." Dante slapped Vergil's shoulder, hard enough to almost make him fall off the tower. "Just so you know, I will find a way."

Dante thought, Vergil never really understood the risk, the ritual had posed for each of them. And Dante purposefully hadn't revealed, that the spell had affected them both. The one defeated was to true into a devil arm, but the fight had been real, just because Vergil didn't know what would have happened to Dante, if he had won. For a second, Dante had wished for Vergil to win. But who could guess, what Vergil hid in his heart and if it had been reversed, what he had done with having access to Dante's powers.

They had grown so exceptionally over the years, Dante himself was still surprised, how Nero had been nothing but a toy, a pesky fly if he'd go so far and call him that. But after learning his story, it had made sense. But still, even Yamato couldn't hurt Dante severely enough anymore, though there had been a time, where that sword would have been able to cut him in half, if Vergil had wanted it to.

"Stop acting so high and mighty, Dante. I will bid my time and wait for my chance to reverse this on my own. I don't need you and your powers. Now leave me. I'm tired of talking."

Dante didn't blink, as Vergil vanished. Probably ready to return home, broodingly no doubt, but at least dry and warm. Vergil did liked the comfort of his attic after all. Solitary or not.

Dante stared into the night sky, countless raindrops hitting his frame as he stood motionless and for a few more minutes. And in these few minutes, even Dante found comfort in solitude, not wanting go home, for the moment he entered, he knew he would get hit with a flurry of people and problems.

As he lowered his head to gaze down into the depth, asking himself if he should just jump, not feeling up to the tedious climb back down. Damn this thing was still mighty and high, even as a ruin.

He went so far as to ponder seriously over it and the very tempting fact to finally catch a decent nap, while his body would heal from the countless fractions he would receive on impact. It would hurt like hell, no arguing there, but he would pass out eventually. He chuckled at himself - crazy might run in the family after all.


	14. Out in the Open

Out in the Open

* * *

Vergil stood outside the shop, having teleported there after Dante had tried to talk some, inhis eyes opinionated, sense into him, falling flat without notice. Yet, his words still sunk in, deeper and deeper into the void, Vergil called his existence.

His thoughts were cut short, for he was met with eerie silence through the still broken glass window. Stoic face in place and Yamato in hand he stepped inside in a slow gait, misleading the three occupants of the room easily, that he just casually strolled in without tensed muscles. Yet he was prepared, for whatever was to come.

Three pair of eyes just stared at him, awaiting a reaction, any kind of reaction, Vergil wouldn't deliver, at least not to the ones, who didn't pay attention. His eyes met Danzig's, widening only a fraction and if they'd have blinked, they would havve missed it entirely.

Vergil strode forward, heading straight for Danzig, but those damned eyes from Nero and Devon followed his every move, way too cautious to be put off as simple surprise at his sudden appearance. Nero's gaze briefly flickered to the old man, then to Devon, before he cast them down.

Nero's heartbeat spelled trouble, but he didn't move an inch. Yet his designated face gave away another clue for Vergil.

He looked over to Devon, who stared back in a patronizing way, that didn't sit well with the twin. Something clearly had happened and the connection was made between Danzig and Devon. As ridiculous as it seemed, Vergil kind of knew. The old secret obscuring Danzig had been solved while he was away. And Dante didn't even bother to brief him on this.

Danzig turned from his position at the desk, where he had leaned, head hunched over a book. After Pesh had retreated back inside the young woman, he too had reverted to his usual form, and unbeknownst to the hybrid, had awaited Vergil's arrival.

"I see Dante has failed to inform you about the current situation." For Danzig it was easy to tell, but he knew the blue devil better than anyone else in the room.

"Indeed he has." Vergil warily watched him, as he closed the short distance. And Danzig saw the realization flicker across his face of his bright, bright boy as he stopped in front of him. "I apologize."

"So, after all those years...you decided to get it out in the open?"

"Not how I imagined it. It just happened, right there." He pointed to the very same spot Vergil stood on and the twin looked down, uncomfortably so, as if there was a stain left of whatever had occurred, and stepped he away from it.

"I didn't know, but my brother was here the entire time. We met. It was delightful."

Nero wanted to concur, yet bit his cheek and swallowed the biting remark he wanted to spit out at the old man. It hadn't been pleasant, at least not for the ones cursed with devil blood. He was drained and tired, feeling not up to the discussion, which might would follow his remark.

"I'm sure it was", Vergil replied, showing absolutely no enthusiasm to his words.

Danzig bowed, with his right hand on his chest. "My boy, I am more than sorry for having to deceive you all those years. But I am sure, you'll understand and believe me, when I say, it was with the best intentions."

Vergil bit his lip, absolutely clueless about what to reply. His non beating heart gave no leeway about how to respond either, his brain although told him within much reason, that this wasn't about him alone. Or Dante. So, under watchful eyes, he lifted his hand, not knowing he mirrored Dante down to a T, when he squeezed the frail looking man's shoulder in a reassuring manner. "It is alright. No harm done. Moreover, I believe you did it to prevent the very same."

Devon and Nero exchanged a pointy look, with Nero whispering at her, obviously continuing a conversation from before his arrival. "Told you so." Devon only smiled, first at him, then at Vergil, who ignored it in favor of resting his eyes on the old man, likely to see, if he could catch a glimpse of that angelic presence he apparently hid somewhere behind his fabricated exterior.

Danzig nodded a few times, almost looking like he wanted to fall asleep. Yet he always had those droopy demeanor about him, suggesting he was anything but the sharp minded individual, he tried to concea,l in favor of making folks take him as harmless as possible.

Did the trick on the twins once, only to learn, he was really anything but, with a vault full of treasures and a wardrobe full of the most expensive clothes this world had ever surfaced and a heart full of secrets no one dared to poke at. Furthermore, Danzig never had given them a single reason to do so in the first place.

"Nothing changed." Vergil effectively stated, solemn look to boot. Danzig countered him with a guilty smile.

Vergil sighed in defeat, motioning to all of the old man. "This is not what you really look like." It wasn't a question.

"I'm afraid not. And I'm sorry to inform you, you missed the show. This masterpiece of a spell slipped for the amount of time, my reunion with my dear brother lasted."

"Please, don't make us live through that again."

Vergil spun on his heels at Nero's deflated plea, seeing him perked up and ready to leave, should this happen again. It sounded very convincing, but held a distinctive drowsiness, his voice couldn't hide either. Vergil was too trained to not pick up on all these small giveaways, that it hadn't been pleasant to watch.

"I'm not interested, don't worry." Vergil allowed him his rest.

Nero muttered a breathy thank you, letting himself sink into the soft cushions, while Vergil raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Danzig. "It might have taken a toll on everybody, but especially young Nero here."

"Great gramppa here makes me sound like a weak bastard." Nero said to no one in particular, but couldn't hide the sardonic grin either.

"Ah, yes. Charming as ever, I daresay. I haven't done that today, no?"

"Shut it, gramps."

"I am no grandpa, boy." Danzig reminded him through his teeth, letting his opposite know, this was the end of the banter.

Nero gritted his teeth, as vivid as it was, he sure as hell had a hard time, bringing that man from before together with the raspy voice and his default look of a skinny geezer. It didn't fit at all. To him, Danzig would be always affiliated with sideburns and crinkles as deep as the clogged gutter channels of Capulet City.

"Yeah, right. You're one of those." His nose scrunched up in disgust, catching Vergil in mild surprise.

"Oh, they had an unpleasant encounter with some of our lower rank brethren."

Vergil slowly veered his attention towards the old man, giving Danzig a taste of his threatening glare, that could chill humans to the very bone.

"They are invading? Have you disposed of them? Are there more?"

Nero flinched with every single question, making Devon perk up, giving him a worrisome look. He turned his head away, hiding his furious face, not able to suppress a groan aimed at Vergil, which Devon mistook to be solely for her. She retreated further from him, feeling the strain rise even more, under which Nero was, ever since the incident happened earlier.

Danzig patted Vergil's arm. "Rest assured, they have been sent back."

Devon turned at his. "What do you mean, sent back? They are not dead?"

"No, as I understand it, those were soldiers, drones if you will. They fall and rise. Fall and rise, if not within their home realm, controlled by a master. They hardly speak, for there is no reason for them to do so. They listen and act. That's their sole purpose." Danzig explained, stunning Devon and Nero altogether.

The information Danzig had received earlier, as Dante went to look for Vergil, from their brief encounter and how Pesh had been able to assist and defeat them in mere flash suggested so. However, there was reason to worry. They had seen Pesh and his potential. A dangerous risk, that Danzig could ignore nor hardly underestimate.

Heaven would soon make it's move, to whatever end though, Danzig could only guess. But by what Draven had told him, complications where to expect soon. And here he was, not able to do anything, than be condemned to wait and watch, blindly adjusting his plans as they went onward.

The board was set and the game about to start. And he hated the analogy the moment he thought of it. It wasn't a game. Humanity was at stake, Danzig was sure. As soon as Dante would return, he would have to lay his cards on the table, to have everybodies attention and cooperation. The riders played a crucial part and so were his three boys. They were the wild cards in a game of opposites and opportunities.

Vergil wasn't nearly satisfied with what Danzig had said, no it was unsettling. He walked over to his beloved armchair, dragging it up to the side of the couch where Nero lounged in an ungraceful slant. It reminded Vergil too much of his brother, his object of most irritation still, making his request sound like a bark.

"Tell me what happened."

Nero pursed his lips, before chewing his lower one with eyes cast down, truly agonized by the thought of having to repeat and imaginary relive the attack, but Vergil was adamant, not taking a no for an answer.

To Vergil's veiled fascination, Devon grew wary of Nero's reaction, having the nerve to throw Vergil a reproachful gander, before shuffling closer. Nero felt the movement, but didn't react nor look. The patronizing hand on his arm made it worse and his bile boiled in the pit of his stomach, making the acid rise and leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

Before Devon could say anything, he told Vergil once more, what Danzig had made him describe in every excruciating detail before, stunning Devon and Vergil into silence, equally perplexed by the bitterness in his voice that didn't wear off, even after retelling the story a second time.

Vergil's look was impassive, but changed throughout the story. Nero had still a long way to go. How to cheer him up, though, Vergil didn't really know. From the woman, he didn't take it either, as it showed quite fundamentally.

Something in their dynamic had changed, that much Vergil could decipher. But why, he could only guess.

But the regretful expression of his younger fellow hybrid, he was well acquainted with, and his undead guts had the audacity to churn. Vergil didn't need this added to his pile of dirt at all, but couldn't bring himself to ignore it either. He had been there before and it was a treacherous path, you had to be ready to walk. And one of them walking down that path had to be enough. They had to watch Vergil, while he did and not the other way around.

"Nero, what's done is done. You've been given an opportunity. Do not waste it."

The circumstance, Nero had willingly opted to take the hit and sacrifice himself, spelled it out for Vergil, more than to anyone else. Yet, no one bothered or simply didn't catch on, so the older hybrid decided to let sleeping dogs lie, for now.

"I could say the same to you." Nero snapped back weakly, and here Vergil did something unexpected. He smiled at him and it did wonders to the boy. "Don't worry, I don't mean to. But your priority is to worry about yourself, wiseass." And indeed, Nero chuckled at him, despite feeling down. Vergil ever only used insults to cheer him up, because he rarely ever did, leaving all the colorful expressions to him and Dante alone.

In addition, Nero did nod at Vergil for emphasis, who looked satisfied enough. From next to Nero, Devon offered Vergil a hesitant smile. Vergil returned it without missing a beat. Devon was grateful once more and wasn't it the most puzzling feeling ever emanating from someone he hardly knew.

Devon knew now, she was the odd one out apparently in this whole hybrid thing, nevertheless there was some relief, Danzig belonged to Pesh. At least he would be able to give her some kind of advice as to how they should handle this. Devon could hear Pesh inside, his muffled voice nothing but a incoherent string of agitated whispers. And Devon couldn't focus any more, feeling physically and emotionally drained, trying her best to blend him out. She was dead tired. Pun intended.

* * *

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me." Nero nudged Devon's arm, who was still sitting close to him, seemingly nodding off and looking exactly as tired as he himself felt. They both have had the chance to finally get clean and change clothes, yet not feeling refreshed in the slightest. It was taking a toll on Nero, all this thinking going on in his head. Once again he was charged with watching the premise, but this time he didn't object, feeling rather lucky, he didn't get nabbed away like Dante, who had ventured in tiredly through the front door only to get himself turned on the heel to leave instantly by Danzig, War and Death no less. Not business as usual, as this action heavily implied.

Where they were headed, Danzig left it a mystery. But he was adamant and urgent about it, so there was no choice left for poor Dante, than to follow his swift steps out into the night with the riders on their heels.

"I'm not, I'm not." Devon slurred, rubbing her eyes and trying to smile, but felt like it only to be a distorted mask, than anything genuine. For what had taken place, before Dante had been off to search his brother and the very same stalking in much later, they all were awfully calm.

There might not be too much to worry about the circumstances, yet even Vergil had taken the news with a stoic expression. He was still here, even after Dante, Danzig and the horsemen had left. And he seemed not interested in conversation either.

"It's not a big deal isn't it?" Devon blurted out without thinking, making Nero turn towards her.

"What is?" Nero couldn't quite follow, as the weariness crept up on his own body after being so mentally exhausted. It was funny and strange, that the meeting between Pesh and Danzig had obviously drained his physique and Devon was feeling it even more.

"That he's an angel, too?"

Nero cocked his head, lids heavy and a hearty yawn breaking free. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around everything." He admitted nonetheless with a shrug. "But, what I do know is, Danzig is Danzig. Nothing's changed about it. Am I surprised? You bet. But other than that, there's noting to say or do."

Little did Devon know, he had seen and experienced too much shit already to act on it by now.

"Dante did take it well, too." Devon said, with a side glance at Vergil.

Nero chuckled at her. "Dante takes anything pretty well," he stated matter-of-factly.

Vergil, who gave no indication of how much he acknowledged his surroundings, listened very closely. He very much would have liked to concur, but still didn't feel like talking about it. He knew, the moment he had left the house in the middle of the ritual, Dante had triggered, a burst of power that had vibrated in his empty shell with echoes of days long passed. Dante's involuntary trigger had been as impressive as his unknown knowledge of incantations.

Vergil found it almost ironic, that after all these years of controlled power, remembering how he had been the reason for Dante's first trigger ever, he was yet again the one who taunted Dante into it. In addition, Vergil asked himself how long it had been for Dante to have his devil take over accidentally inbthe first place and if Vergilhad been the only one to ever have that kind of effect on him. With a glance at the two people on the couch, he also remembered rather guiltily, it could've been dangerous for those two to be caught up in a storm of a devil's unadulterated wrath. It was best to have that not happen again.

Devon and Nero both looked exhausted. Even Dante had viewed him with a tiredness in his eyes, that Vergil hadn't seen before. Many things were brooding on the far horizon, Vergil could feel it echo equally strong as Dante's concerned face had already told him. The coming of the riders, cursed angels trapped in human bodies and now Danzig, still keeping his secrets, but also finally sharing his biggest one so far.

Vergil had wanted to go with them at first, but found it safer to stay, having his eyes trained on the human woman, with the other angel inside, that had grown strong enough to manifest. How in the world would her frail body endure such power and for how long? Also, he felt Nero needed more of a guiding hand, than the others. Danzig wouldn't endanger them knowingly and without spilling the risks, so Vergil was quite relaxed, for now.

Nero sighed for third time in a row, making Vergil's mouth twitch lightly. "Well, since I'm bored and there's not much to do, I'll finish my initial punishment." Nero huffed, as he stood up. He said it lightheartedly and it finally coaxed a reaction from the awfully silent twin. The younger heard him chuckle behind his back and swirled around. "What?"

"You should rather sleep than exhaust yourself even further."

"I really don't feel like it, Verge," Nero whined, rubbing his hand and bringer together.

"It was just an advice," Vergil replied nonchalant, he didn't even bother to look up from his book.

"Noted." Nero turned to Devon and she yawned at him from behind her hand, and then gave him a sheepish smile. He didn't smile back, but was rather austere which was again highly unlikely of him. "You should rest, too. I'll have the room proper and clean in no time, just hang in there."

"That's fine. I don't think I can sleep either."

Vergil snapped his book close with a dramatic sigh. "What is it with you two?"

"We're fine." They said in unison, making Vergil blink a few times in astonishment, before his expression changed to amusement. He waved his hand at the both of them. "Well, do as you please."

"I promised to help you, remember?" Devon reminded Nero, which wasn't necessary, for he hadn't forgotten. But he had hoped, Devon had. He looked uncomfortable, scratching his neck and flexing his arm out of nervous habit. Vergil picked up on it, watching closely at their interaction. "No, it's fine. You need your rest more than I do. I'll fetch you, when I'm done." Nero brushed her off, voice a little more determined, than needed.

Devon lowered her gaze and simply nodded, noticing the change in his voice as well. He sounded too urgent, for lack of a better word. He didn't want her to help, for whatever reason.

"Okay. I'm gonna get some fresh air, while you're at it, alright?" Nero shrugged at her. "Sure." He then turned and stalked off, walking up the stairs without a glance left or right. Devon sighed, as she got up from her spot as well.

"Stay close." Vergil called behind Devon's retreating form. "I'll be right outside on the stairs." Devon replied, giving him a playful salute, which he tilted his head to, minding to not look amused and lighten the leverage of his commanding tone. "I've learned my lesson."

Devon sat outside on the cold stone steps leading u the front door of the shop. The cool air was helping wear off the drowsiness from before. Devon heard Pesh whisper inside her head all the time and finally gave in, because he didn't shut up. They needed to talk apparently. And with no one listening in, Devon felt a lot more comfortable to do so, still forgetting about the impeccable ability to hear the twins possessed.

"I have a request." His voice echoed in her skull.

"Shoot," Devon said out loud, not remotely thinking she'd look like a loony, talking to herself.

"Can I...switch with you?" Pesh asked tentatively, yet wasn't able to suppress the underlying eagerness, should she say yes. Devon perked up, slightly alarmed. "You think this is a good idea right now?"

There was a short silent, before Pesh let out a deep heavy sigh.

"Please. I wanna feel the wind, the rain. I wanna smell and see for myself. Please." The bastard was actively trying to sound cute, which Devon noticed right away. But, she could also hear the plea among it.

"You don't see what I see?"

"It's a bit blurry to be honest. It's not the same as before, where I saved your cute, little friends ass."

And Pesh cackled at his own language. He enjoyed this more, than Devon had expected. "How can you laugh? Wasn't it dangerous?"

"No, not in the slightest. Those soldiers had nothing on me. Didn't you pay attention, Dev? I am a virtue. Highest of angel ranks. Though I have to admit, your human body brings quite the inconvenience with it. Which brings me back to my humble request. I need to figure out, how to not hurt you should something like this happen again."

"You didn't hurt me. If so, I didn't feel it."

"You were exhausted, passed out. But as I broke free for the first time, I underestimated how it would affect you. And I wanted to apologize for that. Sorry, Dev." He sounded embarrassed, albeit still cute. She could imagine his face crowned with golden locks and the small smile, that played on the corner of his mouth.

"Will I be able to talk you like you do now, if I let you out?"

"Yes."

"And will you stay close by, so we won't get in trouble when the others come back?" Devon stayed resolute, despite feeling him growing more impatient by the second.

"Define close by." He tried to weasel his way through and sounded way to amused, to let Devon take him seriously any longer.

"In sight of the house. And we need to tell the others." Not that she tried to make it sound extra serious anyway.

"They wouldn't understand, trust me. Also, they make me itch. I'd rather not meet them in true form."

"If anyone would understand, it's Nero." The woman reasoned still and Pesh found the persistence to be rattling him to his nonexistent bones.

"You got a very dangerous soft spot for him."

Devon changed course too, because Pesh hit home in a mere second, which drove her irritation right back at him. It was true. And it hurt. And it reminded her yet again of the, to close for comfort, almost kiss, which she knew would have made things much more complicated, or so she told herself. "That's none of your business. And why would it be dangerous? He's nice...", Devon interrupted herself, not liking where her traitorous mouth was going, sucking in a deep breath. She prepared mentally against the slip up and for a different approach. "Pesh, he almost died for us back there."

Pesh puckered up, feeling the surge of emotion and not linking it one bit. "He's got a lot of turmoil in his head. You ought to get hurt, if you peek inside to much."

"What did you see?"

"That's as much as I will say. I'm not one to brag, Dev. If he chooses to hide it, then so be it. But listen to me, he's as complicated as they come. Even if he has compassion to show for it, I wouldn't rely on him, he has his head full already without us adding up to it." Pesh would rather rely on Danzig than anyone else. He was the one Pesh had let down and he was dead set on making it up to him one way or the other.

As for Devon, she concluded a different reason, which was also true. Pesh wasn't being rude. He was being kind. "He needs to figure out a lot, better leave him to do it on his own."

"But we might be able to help."

"He doesn't want it, or he would have said so, don't you think? Let him have his secrets, he doesn't wanna share. All those regrets inside him spell trouble, if you get to close. No one can make him understand, until he figures it out on his own and he knows. That's where true strength comes from. And wisdom."

Is that why him and Dante were on a strained relationship? And now it all made a little more sense to Devon. Nero acted like he didn't have a care in the world, because he was trying so damn hard to hide behind it. With Dante he was different. They both had a history together. Was Dante trying to protect him? From what?

Pesh sighed at her inner musings. "You might be right. Dante is a gentle soul, fierce if needed, but truly gentle. He cares a lot, and worries equally as much. Putting restrictions down might be his way of keeping everyone in check, so he doesn't have to worry all the time."

"There's so much shit going on, and here I thought they were a neat family of misfits. They all are so damn cheery all the time, don't you think? Okay, except for Vergil, but he's alright in my books."

"He is, I can assure you. But there's a darkness and no humanity left in that one. He's hollowed from the inside out, but not yet entirely empty. He searches. For what I don't know. Just that he's, let me think, restless. Yes, that's the word. Restless and relentless. But he's an honest guy, bit blunt, but that I also like."

"I'm amazed you can see that at all."

"It's more feeling rather than looking. I could have had my eyes closed, and still tell. I never told you this, but I'm glad you stumbled across them. I'd never imagined such a thing to happen. My hopes were dying down, yet you kept on going all these years. I have to thank you for that. You lived a troubled life because of me."

Devon turned her head towards the sky and the dark brooding clouds, thinking of how the sky never changed. No stars to follow, no light around, but then again, if there was reason behind this, it didn't look as dreary as the always dark sky told her. "Because of you? How so?"

"Ah, yes. You still don't know that much I reckon." Pesh's voice turned quieter. Knowing the risk and the toll it could take on their young and fresh bond. However, hiding this, he thought wasn't right either. Not fair at all. And for what it's worth, he would trust his feeling once more. She had been worth saving, altering his path finally, so Pesh knew, he owed her just as much. He took a deep, unneeded breath, simply out of habit. "The curse not only affects me, but you as well. Didn't you wonder why I couldn't heal your eye? Why everything had gone to shit, from day one?"

Devon tilted her head, then looked down with her halved vision to inspect her hands, flawless skin, no scrapes left, no scars to show either. Like a miracle, only it wasn't. Of course, she had wondered, but had been to afraid to find out why. But not anymore, not when he deliberately chose to tell her. "I did. And loosing my eye, I would be lying, if I'd say it doesn't suck. It does. But also, I was afraid, you'd think I blame you. Maybe I did at first. I don't know. I'm still afraid, but now I know, you suffered as much. Didn't you?"

Devon's voice was thick, laced with genuine regret upon this very epiphany. Pesh wasn't either to blame nor to be held in responsibility.

"For millennia. I would awake in a haze many times only to see my host wither and die and be planted into the next to start the cycle anew. All the time. They'd hurt and I was shut off and couldn't do a damn thing. Only feel, how they crumbled and broke apart. Nothing ever good will happen to you, for as long as I'm inside. You need to get rid of me, if you want to live. That eye was just the beginning. I can't restore it, it is part of my punishment, that transferred onto you, for being my host. It is cruel, but He made it so the tainted humanity will suffer as much I do, for putting your kind before Him. He's a jealous master, who doesn't like to be ignored. And we did so lightly, in our pride and want. And I openly transgressed, for begging for mercy. Devon, I'm sorry, so, so sorry, for I never expected the consequences would be yours, and not only mine, to endure as well. But now I have the chance to make it right for the first time, though it won't bring back the other lives I already consumed. But on their behalf, we have to find a way."

Devon was at loss for words. The pain in her chest she identified as Pesh's. His regret and sorrow seeping into her flesh and bones, making her physically hurt. And the truth, she had cast aside so easily, was there. She would die, if Pesh stayed inside. Her body started shaking. Knowing she'll die one day was different to this very feeling, a predetermined fate she couldn't escape and by the underlying anguish swinging in his words and voice she knew without him spelling it out letter by letter, it wouldn't take a lifetime full of different experiences to happen. No, she would die in the near future.

And if it wasn't the most scary thought to come up with on a cold stone step in the middle of the darkest night with rain pelting down on her shaking figure. The realization crashing down on her like a caving wave, breaking over her slumped down form, drenching her cold awareness of no future, but a darkness like clouds gathering beneath her feet.

But Pesh's resistance to adhere to the dark thoughts, sparked up a tiny flame of hope.

"What about Danzig? Nero said, he might know how to stop it."

"If so, he would have said already. I'm sorry..."

Pesh grew silent, listening to the heartbeat of Devon and it reminded him of Danzig's. His heart held the same frantic pace when they reunited, not to mention Pesh's bedazzled face to have him found through the half devils and in their company no less. "I'm surprised about my brother, I have to admit. Raising the demon children like they were his own. But then again, he is Wisdom, so maybe he knew it would all come together one day. He never does anything without purpose."

Devon whined suddenly, pressing both her palms to her temple. "My head is spinning, Pesh. One second you give me hope, only to crush it within the next. I don't know, if I should yell at you or smack myself in the face."

"Sorry, Dev. I'm not used to mince words. Really, sorry. But, believe me when I say, my brother always has a plan. He might not share his thoughts all the time, because it would be damn tiring, but he can't hide it from me either. His plan is set in motion, as we speak..." Pesh let out a small chuckle, before he continued,"..and I'm glad that you didn't loose your humor. We'll get along just fine."

And for someone, who might be responsible for her death, Devon couldn't help but to feel his hopes shining through and react to it. There must be way. If it was a fabricated curse, it can be undone, right? And Pesh did something, he knew might come back to bite him, but if he lost hope, he would have stopped caring a long time ago. But he failed to do so, true to his virtue. "There's gotta be a way to fix this."

Time might be running short, but if they managed to actually gather enough information, with Danzig's help added to the surmountable effort it might take, for he was making a huge difference in Pesh's opinion, they might succeed. Believing this lead him to say it so easily. "I won't let you die."

Devon nodded to herself, half assured and half of her brain still figuring out how to understand her impending fate. And on that notion, she knocked her head, in order to have Pesh ready. He laughed at the strange gesture, which naturally had no effect whatsoever on him. "What was that for?"

"Attention please, ready to switch." Devon replied in a voice that meant business and Pesh cackled happily, not entirely believing it.

"What? Really?"

"Yeah. You gave me reason to trust you. You could be lying your ass off about everything, but you didn't. I'm still afraid as hell, but you said, it, we have to find a way. We have to. We both don't deserve this."

The angel turned solemn one last time, before letting excitement take over completely."It's not in my nature to lie. And I'm glad I have your trust. I won't disappoint you."

"I'd give my pinkie, if you had one."

"For what?"

Devon laughed, getting an idea. "Switch now." And she felt Pesh taking over, the heat spread from her heart to her arms and her fingers, linking both smallest fingers of her right and left hand together. "That's a pinkie promise. We won't let each other down."

Pesh emerged from his golden glow, fingers linked and Devon's voice echoing in his heart. If that's how the humans did it, so be it. "Promise." His voice sounded hollow for a second and it reminded her of the voices from the other angels he had defeated, she quickly shoved the unpleasant thought aside, ready to revel in Pesh's newly acquired freedom with him, also pleased, she finally had a place to rest and none safer than this.

Pesh took a deep breath of air heavy with rain and the myriads of different scents and smells. From dirt to oil, from human to demon, his conscience reached out far and wide, embracing the world in all it's filth and glory. It sure had changed a lot, but he still was drawn to it all the same. His eyes were tightly shut, as he stretched his arms with intertwined fingers towards the dark sky, manifested in all his glory at last.

"It feels so good..." He sighed dramatically, feeling the tiny droplets of rain cool his skin down. And the wind, it blew over his skimpy linen and hit his torso with a freezing gust. And Pesh laughed - laughed at the moon behind clouds, laughed at the dim street lights, illuminating the street and the house with the curious sign.

"Devil May Cry, huh." It fit the hybrids all too well. Knowing the devils could shed tears out of pain and sorrow and have mercy on the poor souls, show compassion towards each other, Devon couldn't have done better than this. In all honesty, Pesh was appreciating each and everyone of them. It was a twisted world, that was for sure. Where angels killed in cold blood and demons lived together as a family to care about each other.

Pesh was never one to mindlessly heed the hierarchy and sermons of Heaven, where everyone had purpose, but no free will. It might be the curse of being among the first born angels, but Pesh would never want to miss it. Humans don't know what they got, when having possibilities to choose from, than rather have everything presented to them and set in stone. This was absolute freedom. And he wouldn't want to see that taken away from them. They were far from perfect, but that was what freedom of choice brought with it. Over the more he valued the ones, who actively chose to do good, human or not.

Demon, hybrid, devil, angel. Pesh didn't care anymore, having felt and seen enough in such a short time to turn his beliefs upside down, ready to adapt to the new concept.

He flexed his body, after the transformation completed. "Time to run a little wild."

From the inside Devon yelled at him and he laughed on the outside. "Don't worry. Pinkie swear and all. Just a bit of exercise to get used to it." And Devon relaxed. "I'll keep an eye on you. If I had two, well, you know... And please, don't make me loose a limb, too."

"Yeah...Glad to see you're back on the funny side, though. I'll be careful."

* * *

They walked briskly, with Danzig dictating their fast and secret steps down the old park, where Dante once drove past Devon without him noticing, because he had been to caught up in worries. No difference this time, except for his eyes and ears caught up on every distinct sound.

The riders walked silently at arms reach behind them, with Danzig leading them on foot through the night like thieves. The park smelled of dump and wet grass, though the rain had given up on them for the time being. Dante listened to faint noises, dripping water somewhere and in the far distance some car drove by. But here it was as dead as it could be.

No light there, but their own eyes, with each sporting a different hue. Danzig gray eyes wandered restlessly to and fro, his clothes shuffled in the colt breeze, where Dante's trademark coat made little to no noises. War's heavy boots were surprisingly silent as were his brothers, both as well wrapped up in their tattered coats, similar to Danzig's.

"Now, what happened to the house and the mirror?" Danzig asked curiously.

"He triggered." Death admonished out of the blue, when Dante still tried to come up with an easy enough explanation.

"I accidentally triggered." Dante then had to confirm sheepishly. "And destroyed the room and the mirror."

Danzig, cloaked in his old and comfortable self and ragged clothes, looked funny at Dante for this piece of seemingly useless information. "Accidentally?"

"I didn't do it on purpose."

"Wasn't it a situation to act on?"

"It wasn't too dangerous."

"Then why did you trigger then?"

"You're not listening, old man." Out of habit, not because he wanted to say it, but old Danzig grinned his sly fox grin. There would still be some getting used to it from not only Dante's side.

"I don't understand why you triggered, when you didn't want to. That makes no sense."

"When you wouldn't interrupt me every time, I like to explain."

War groaned impatiently at their unnecessary banter, not knowing they enjoyed it quite a bit. "You got angry."

Danzig turned his head, eyes wide at the red rider. "He got angry?"

"I got angry." Dante echoed, but more deflated, in comparison to War.

"Because of his brother." Death threw his two cents in as well, yet again dodging one of Dante's pointy stares. "Of course, why don't you, " the hunter muttered under his breath.

"And this made you trigger?" Danzig shook his head in disbelief, leading them past bushes and casually shoving naked twigs out of his face.

"You make it sound like it's my fault."

"It isn't Vergil's." Danzig admonished with a sigh.

"Alright, now you're just trying to take the piss out of me."

"Is it working? Do you want to trigger right now?" The old man was teasing him and enjoyed it the fullest, judging by his broad grin.

"I didn't want to trigger back then. I just sort of did."

"Nearly ripped my skin off." Death chimed in, this time returning the heated stare from Dante with a sardonic smirk. This was like tattling a sons mishaps to a father. And that he found amusing to no end. Especially with seeing Dante's reaction.

"Singed my clothes too." War added, in Dante's opinion uncalled for, as well. What was it with these two today?

Danzig played along just fine, in favor of having both horsemen exchange a low chuckle. "Now Dante, why did you do that?" And here the hybrid realized, they all played along on his expanse.

"I didn't do it on purpose! Vergil was being an ass and I got mad."

"You sound like a winy mule, Dante. Have some composure." Danzig went so far as to add insult to injury, Dante wasn't even surprised.

"Uh...", The hybrid groaned loudly, ruffling through his hair in frustration, "...let's just drop it, guys."

Danzig merely sniggered from behind his thick shawl draped around his neck. And on they went, feeling a bit lighter and in higher spirits, all sharing a fair amount of dark humor. And didn't work it well.

"Why are you so being secretive, anyway?" Dante asked, remembering his original question before Death had altered the subject. And it seems the amusement wore off as quickly as it came. Danzig didn't answer right away, not having the right words to put it down without them getting agitated. He'd rather make them see for themselves than to spill it out, letting the weight of it do the trick and hopefully dodging the direct aftermath and have it drowned in stunned silence.

Death growled lowly. "Where are you leading us?"

Danzig acted like he caved in as much as he could. "Beneath the city. Like I said, I have something to show you. It will all make sense, once you see it."

"Could have just told us," Dante complained under his breath. Danzig stopped dead in his tracks to give him a long hard stare. "Oh, stop it. It's better you see this with your own eyes. And to know the way, for you might have to return here without me."

The ominous reply Dante received was both and unsettling and foreboding in some weird way. Why would he need to come here alone, to whatever the hell he dragged them towards to? This didn't sit right with him.

"Are you planning to go somewhere?" Dante asked carefully, but couldn't fully hide his concern for the old man and the possibility of him vanishing again.

"No, sonny. No, I don't plan to go anywhere." Danzig chuckled at him, as they continued side by side with the riders in tow. Dante overheard the pet name, for one he was used to it, and for two, his brain refused to acknowledge he was talking to someone looking just his age, but in truth was still old as time.

"For a moment you got me worried."

"I said I don't plan to. But that's the thing, plans don't always go the way we want them to. So, there's always the possibility of me not being there, when you need me. I am merely preparing you to act on the what if's."

Like he had always done.

Dante squared his jaw and noticed a tightness in his throat forming at the thought, he might loose his mentor. He never doubted Danzig to outlast each and everyone of them, but it would seem Danzig had a different opinion. Which just told Dante the same, that War had claimed the first night they came here. Something was brewing under these heavy rain clouds.

"Don't be ridiculous. Everything's gonna be fine. You've prepared me enough. You're here with us and look behind you. There's no way in hell these two will let anything happen to us either."

He was right and Death grunted his consent. Well, nothing more or less anticipated from the stoic horseman.

"And our brother and sister are out there as well. You dealt with Draven and got us his support." War spoke, adding some more comfort for the old man. As he and his brother had witnessed the short transformation upon his reunion with the one inside the woman, he wasn't as surprised as everyone else. Both him and Death had always known, Danzig was anything but a demon. Or a devil for that matter. He always had felt too pure. But the story of angels being cast out of hell, for a crime both the riders didn't know about, had been a true revelation. Never had the Council dropped a hint of some sort about it, if they even knew. Which could also mean, it happened before their coming into existence.

So Danzig and Pesh lined up with the short list of Old Ones – the term used for beings way before the Council. Like Lucifer for instance. Death now didn't find it suspicious any longer, that these two knew each other. For Lucifer was indeed the only known angel who had fallen from grace and thus, Heaven. He was made an example of like no other and still managed to pull himself out of Heaven's grasp forever by leaving Hell on his own accord and to vanish in the mass of humans. Unseen. And never to be found.

Well, at least until he had decided to show up in time, which had happened many years ago. Danzig and Lucifer apparently shared a special relationship, which only now made all too much sense. Maybe Danzig even held a grudge against the Heavens. But what did Death know of these things? He wasn't approved to walk the White City, neither where his brethren. The race was a stranger to him, even if he partly belonged to it. But there was no mutual feeling to them as far as he was concerned. And the angels had a very different take on dealing with their own. And they condemned every other, who dared to meddle in their affairs.

War either held not much love for them, but he knew Danzig as a person, and held him in high regards. Not the angel he might had been at some point, but the ever wise and helping hand, he and his brother had relied on, when confiding in him about the Charred Council. He was an accomplice, if they wanted to give it a name. If this circumstance added up to Danzig's existing crime, he appeared to not give a single care. And never had he given them reason to not be trusted. All those years, they were becoming friends, if he was forced to give it a name as well.

"You said, there were more." War piped up, when they passed along old stone statues and towards their unknown destination. Danzig held his hand up, making them all stop. He pointed at a small stone pantheon up the slope, their path lead towards, it was overshadowed by thick trees now. The last angel statue on the way looked at them with hollow eyes from withered marble. The wings were green with moss and black with dirt, that even the relentless rain couldn't wash off.

While swiftly walking right towards the small pantheon, that didn't even have a bench, which Dante would have used to briefly rest upon, Danzig slicked his gray hair back and motioned them to stand right in the middle.

His gray eyes landed on War. "All in due time, my impatient friend." He patted Wars gauntlet, showing affection towards the veiled worries on his face, his eyes dim for once. "I have several matters to attempt to and they all start here."

And as he said it, the stone circle they stood on, moved. Dante was eerily reminded of the contraption in the Fortuna chapel and his guts twisted more, the lower they descended down a narrow shaft, fitting the moving platform exactly. The steady scraping started to echo in his mind. Like the swirl of thoughts, which equally scraped the insides of his skull, too many to properly fit in there at times. And after what seemed like hours but where probably just minutes, Dante thought he was about to yell at noise to stop. But before he could burst, the noise abruptly stopped. The shaft ended and they silently floated down a vast hall. Old and musky, dust particles floating through the nearly stagnant air. but the walls were intact and many adorned with patterns unlike the rest of the city.

"How deep are we?" Dante asked, not masking his astonishment, as they safely landed in a ring of, yet again dull and faded, marble, where the platform had an equal fitting spot like above under the blind eyes of the angel statue.

"We are far below the city. And these catacombs are the remnants of an older race." Danzig didn't need to say more. They understood. He was the one, maybe together with his siblings who where responsible for this.

"Is this why you were punished?"

"Not exactly. Not for building the elevator." He really liked to make this as ominous as possible. But that was Danzig for them, always gambling for much more effect than necessary. No wonder Dante ended up becoming who he was. War involuntarily snorted at the thoughts.

"That wasn't my question." But Dante couldn't contain his own amusement, sparing the red rider a glance with twinkling eyes. Both silently commuting, at how Danzig would never change. And hopefully so.

They followed the angel into one of those tunnels, connected to their elevator staring point, and headed north. Yet, tunnel was not the right word to describe, what once must have been beautiful, but thousands of years had sunken the teeth of time into the beauty and gnawed on it, until it had turned to a bare skeleton.

The murals were nothing but ripples on dull stone. Colors had faded to various shades of gray. No gold. No shimmer left of anything worth coming down here, the angel noticed glumly.

"Only a little walk and we are there." Danzig tried to keep them at bay and at the same time heightened their curiosity. Even Death's head whipped from one side to another to take in the architecture of this place so long forgotten, buried under rain and stone. He could smell sea and moss off the stone down here and the way it looked, several floods might have passed the halls and tunnels, washing what had been left of the angels presence off the tired surfaces surrounding them in the dark.

They passed several stone bows, with iron gates barely intact, rusting on broken hinges, all open and turned aside by time and water.

And only now they notices the steady trickling of water. An underground river?

Dante turned his head towards the direction, it was coming from, before giving Danzig a questioning look. "The water needs to go somewhere right? You never wondered why the streets aren't flooded by the heavy rain?"

Dante merely grinned dumbfounded. "I assumed it to go underground. But not like this."

"It's a river, yes. It flows towards the ocean under the desert. We build it, so our home wouldn't drown. But as Capulet City was build atop, they might have clogged some drainage tunnels. It would at least explain why this place is in such a desolate state."

"You sound surprised. When was the last time you were down here," Dante asked, intrigued by Danzig's unexpected claim.

Danzig's answer was cut short and slightly gruff. "I don't recall." He was supposed to guard the place, not live in it. Not that he couldn't. To many memories whispering from the cold stone and to many worries lurked down here in the dark, however here it was where he could keep them at bay, by knowing it was safe, thus never visiting it again ever after his banishment.

Up until now. The riders had set the worlds in motion. Still, Danzig gave his consent, the relic of old had to vanish along with the last corruption left to inflict pain and loss among them. In one thing, the angels were right, the world needed cleansing. But Heaven had a different plan, not like his own intentions, judging on the events Trish, Nero and Devon had described, but on a whole different scale.

The White City was on a warpath, Danzig was certain. And this world was on the receiving end. Once mankind was betrayed for Eden. And Eden fell. Now it was Earth. And who would be there build them another home, when Earth fell, with the Council dead and the Creator gone? No one.

There was no one left to plea upon. Not that it would do any good, when Danzig thought about Pesh, who was cursed with a vile alteration of his own punishment.

No, they could only rely on themselves. But he wouldn't be Danzig, if he hadn't several tricks up his expensive sleeve. But one trick at a time or the audience might catch on and or wanted it's investment back. He'd like to avoid that. The opposing forces had no idea, or so he hoped.

Good thing, Nero and Pesh didn't leave anyone behind upon their encounter. But it was also unlucky, for they could have received crucial information.

Danzig straightened his back involuntarily in response to his own musings, no use crying over spilled milk. Also, they were close. If the angels had any means of a travel route between the realms, it was this. But seeing this place with his own eyes after all those years, he was sure it was still untouched and dead to the worlds.

"Behold the angel's curse and the reason for their punishment." Danzig hollered as they passed under another stone bow to come to their nightly stroll's destination.

"You gotta be kidding me..." Dante sighed. And rely on the hybrid to know exactly where they where. They had headed north for quite a ways. Straight up to the center of the city far above. The center, that still was home to the skeleton of stone, once surrounding and spitting out the Tower of Fear, his brother had summoned.

Even though Dante knew next to nothing about it, it was in this moment and evidently so, that there was a connection. Why the dead outer shell wouldn't disappear. Well, on the bright side, maybe he could get two birds with one stone. It always bothered him, that it still stood there, not entirely void of power, or the structure would have crumbled along wit it's main part, when he had fought Vergil on it's footing at the edge towards Hell in the demon realm.

Danzig turned towards Dante with sorrow in his eyes, bowing his head in demure, knowing to well he had risked a great deal. "I'm sorry, sonny. This is my legacy. And I had to protect it, by staying silent. Just as you are my legacy, which I try to protect as well."

Dante was speechless. The humble voice and sadness hitting him right in the chest, making his heart heavy at the sight of the old man lowering his head in shame, his bony fingers clenching the fabric right above his heart.

He closed the short distance and his gentle words echoes through the vast hall. "It's alright. You had your reasons, I guess." His hand landed on Danzig shoulder, while he walked past the hunched figure of the old man, letting go only after he gave him a soft squeeze to emphasize his words.

"But, I don't need your protection any longer."

Danzig turned to look at Dante in admiration and with renewed vigor in his eyes, knowing he had been right in his decision. "That's why I brought you here. You are everything the world needs. I'm but a relic. Just like this is."

They stared in awe and equally horrified at the structure before their very eyes. And as much as the riders and Danzig blinked, it came into view just the same, all too real.

The Gates to Heaven.

"From here, I can summon the others, now, that Pesh is found. United at last."

* * *

Nero heard the phone ring, which wasn't a good sign this late hour. He highly doubted it to be a customer and the phone seldom rang after midnight ever. It spelled emergency, the moment the ringing stopped. He approached the top of the stairs just in time to catch Vergil holding the receiver, after the typical business greeting, with a look most sour look.

Nero hopped down the stairs, eyes fixed on Vergil and his tensed posture. The twin motioned for the young man to stand beside him and as he did he could make out the uncanny voice on the other end of the line, which belonged to no other than Johnny, the owner of Love Planet.

Nero's gaze met Vergil's narrowed eyes as he listened to Johnny, who spoke fast, urgent. Vergil finally found an opening. "Did you fight them off?"

Nero heard Johnny explain, how he managed to defeat a few and upon realization, they had encountered a stronger demon, they retreated, leaving the place in shambles. And right now Johnny was standing in his wrecked office, roof leaking and his employees and customers either dead or scattered into all directions. It was a fast attack no one anticipated. At this time of day, the club sure as hell had been packed, Nero guessed.

Vergil tried his best to stop the gushing from the blonde on the other end, but equally urgent pointed towards the kitchen and Nero nodded, quite determined, and followed the path Vergil pointed to. It left no doubt, that the attackers were the same, the way Vergil had reacted, basically telling him to gear up for hunting.

Behind the door for the pantry was the pantry, but additionally it was also the entrance to the level below, where all devil arms and other weaponry was stored. It was secured with a blood reactive spell, allowing only five people to enter. Nero was one of them.

As he descended the narrow stairs, Dante's collection hummed and sighed at him, eager for a fight. He always found it creepy, how it felt when he came down here. Some weapons were sleepy and drowsy, barely taking notice of him, but others downright yelled at him, making him jump every time. Agni and Rudra were of the latter, while Nevan belonged to the other. She only ever woke, should Dante himself wander down here, she had a nasty infatuating with him, but he loved her equally, well as far as you could love a dangerous weapon.

Everyone else though was advised to stay the hell away from her. Nero once made the mistake and Nevan let him play some sick riffs and he was so caught up in his seemingly mad skills, he barely noticed the heavy influence of her spell, until it was too late and his knees buckled. The succubus had been on his neck, the second he slumped sideways to the floor, ready to suck him dry. His curiosity almost got him killed that day, but luckily Dante had been searching the house for him and ventured in, just right on time, hammering her away from the poor boy. Later they laughed about it, but everyone knew, it had been a close call. After that, he swore to never touch nor look at either of them.

With a proud spring in his step, Nero flipped them all off without a single glance, while walking past the locked displays, eyes resting on his weapon case, with the red crown etched into the black surface, only.

"Hello there, Queen. Hope you're ready." He didn't need to check and the greeting was mandatory ,as he clicked the case open, for he knew she was ready to go, making sure every now and then, she was fueled and in spiffing condition.

He secured the sword holster around his torso and after little adjustment, the Red Queen was secured on his back. He wasn't used to the heavy sword, but he'd give a few minutes, and the he wouldn't even feel the weight anymore. To think about, how unbecoming it was for him to run around without a sword, or any weapon, he gritted his teeth. He was reminded of the times in Fortuna where he barely left the grounds of Hq or his home without it. She was his companion ever since and it was sad, he seldom used her.

He tested the engine for the fun of it, revving it up a few times, smelling the gasoline, fire and smoke. He inhaled the scent deep into his lungs, reveling for a moment and then quickly went back to join Vergil.

The hybrid stood in the living room, already having retrieved Nero's other priced possession and tossed it over with a jovial smile, before adjusting his gloves and coat some more. "Devon shouldn't come with us. It might get dangerous."

Nero only laughed in response. "You saw him didn't you? I'm sure she's safer than any of us. I'd rather take her with us." As bitter as he was about Pesh needing to save his ass, that was on him. And he could acknowledge strength when he saw it, though he didn't have to like it.

"She'd become a distraction and someone will you have to look out for her."

"I don't think it's a good plan to let her stay behind alone. Danzig and Dante both will be out for our asses, if something happens. Which reminds me..." Nero stalked off towards Dante's desk, grabbing the notepad, quickly scribbling something down.

 _Pizza was out. We go hunt down some more._

It was the code for 'shit blew up in our faces and it needs immediate fixing'.

Vergil nodded at him. Ready. Set. Go.

And when they both stepped outside, they stared around dumbfounded.

"You gotta be kidding me..." Nero put his hands on his hips, letting out a frustrated groan, while Vergil rubbed his temples. He really wasn't cut out for the babysitting job, as it would seem.

Devon was gone. And Vergil blamed it on himself and his trust in her having some sense of responsibility in that bony body of hers. None of them could sense her, because of that damn angel inside, Dante had mentioned it to him on top of it and Vergil was sure, he'd rub it in for as long as he saw fit.

Vergil's eyes scanned the surroundings and in a flash, he was on the roof of their house, in order to cover a wide range.

"Nero, look." He pointed a few houses down.

"Oh, goddammit!" Nero saw, what Vergil was referring to and spew some neat obscenities into the howling wind. He really, really didn't feel like dealing with that kind of fuckery right now.


	15. solace

Solace

* * *

Pesh stood on the roof three houses away from the shop, nose turned upwards and into the strong winds. He inhaled deeply and his eyes narrowed. There was movement in the shop Devon now called her home and soon, he heard the voice of Nero and Dante's brother.

Pesh stared ahead. Bitter smoke was in the air, from ashes, burnt flesh and singed feathers, carried over in the breeze like a snake unfurling to sink it's teeth into his heart. The steady rain didn't help to wash it away either. The blood had boiled and was black. So much death. He felt it in and all over his existence. It was disgusting him. Yet he was strangely calm, his heart sat where his mind was, and didn't beat. But his soul vibrated, his form of pure energy pulsated with it. Or maybe it was his heart, just not a physical one. What did he know.

He heard a soft, barely audible thud and Vergil stood next to him. Pesh's eyes gazed sideways to give him a swift once over. His coat rustled in the breeze. But other than that, he was also exceedingly calm and silent. He didn't address Pesh's appearance nor questioned his reasons. Instead, his voice sounded cold and business as usual. "We got a call, there's work to do."

Pesh finally turned his head, stunned by the courtesy the devil gave him and also because Nero reached them to stomp towards Pesh with a look on his face, that spelled trouble for the angel.

"What are you doing? Where's Devon? Is she okay?" While Nero blurted out his demanding questions, he invaded Pesh's personal bubble, but his face soon changed, caught off guard and staggering back with an a wide eyed expression on his face. Might have been shock. Or realization. Or both.

Vergil cleared his throat, grabbing Nero by the elbow to pull him back even more. Pesh watched them both with an interested stare, waiting until they were finished. Nero's demonic arm flared up at Vergil's touch.

The younger shook Vergil's hand off and rolled his elbow. The blue twin's hand was cold as ice and it quickly seeped through the many layers of fabric and down his arm. The glow on his right side died down, as soon as Vergil let go.

"Just take a few steps back, it isn't as strong if you bring some distance between you and him."

Nero opened his mouth, but a second passed before he could speak. The whiff of the familiar smell did diminish though, as he did as told. He staggered backwards still, until it dies down, before he spoke. "How'd you know?"

"That's not the first angel I've met. I'm aware of that unpleasant trait all too well. Just focus, keep your distance for now and you'll get used to it." Vergil stated dismissive and ominous, indicating he didn't want to dive further into the matter.

Nero understood and berated himself for reacting so strongly to it in the first place. He scrunched up his nose and shrugged, as if to let Vergil know it was nothing but a bothersome inconvenience.

But it wasn't.

The smell of sea and salt and warm sun on the endless, rolling waves gave him a cold shiver down his spine and a metaphorical punch in the gut. He'd never thought, he'd once miss Fortuna, but he did. In the cold rain and dark night, he missed Fortuna and the only thing that was attached to it as a forever happy memory, which could make him cry always. He'd never forget Kyrie and her sweet perfume, collecting seashells and giddily jumping to escape the much colder sea waves, that had been lazily rolling up the shoreline, they had used to walk along, happy to get Credo and the Order out of his hair for only an afternoon. Despite all the shit, people had given him, Kyrie always had managed to overpower all of it with only her presence.

Nero's throat tightened as he once more rolled his shoulders in an nervous attempt to get rid of the feeling for now. They had urgent matters to take care of and, as Vergil had said, he needed to focus.

Vergil, despite himself, was very much aware of Nero's short struggle to keep his bubbling emotions in check. Vergil knew all too well, that it would take some time to adjust. But the fact, that from now on, they might had to linger in the presence of angels deliberately, it was best to clarify some things for Nero, so he did understand and was prepared for it. Nothing could be more dangerous than a sudden, triggered emotion. It could determine your death, the moment you lost focus, it could determine fate.

Vergil observed Nero closely, silently giving him credit for trying. His lips were a thin line and his jaw tight, but his eyes were clear and had Vergil in sight, as he nodded. "I was the same as you, so don't worry. But, it'll pass, once you know what to expect."

Nero snorted, implying to be already done with it. "It's annoying." Vergil slicked his hair back, that quickly had been soaked and tousled by the winds, clutching to his forehead and hanging into his eyes. Now, that was annoying no less. He also noted, that his temporary state protected him from the effect of Pesh. Vergil didn't smell anything, except for the same stink of rain and gutter.

Pesh had started to tap his left foot to the constant staccato of the battering water drops on the flat roof, crossing his arms over his chest. His head was lolling to one side, making it clear, how exceedingly bored he was with having to listen to the two going on about the scent of angels, which smelled different to every person. Pesh knew that, and he secretly wished to know, but usually people kept it to themselves, for it wasn't always nice. It conjured memories long forgotten. Memories that should be happy ones, but with the humans and demons rotting on earth in a steady dance with darkness around, you'd never know. And judging by Nero's behavior, for him it also seemed to have a painful background. The boy was so full of sorrow, Pesh shouldn't even be surprised about his reaction.

But one thing puzzled him more. Vergil's comment on how he wasn't the first angel. And it certainly couldn't have been Danzig, who hid behind a thick wall of magic unknown to both twins, that no one could penetrate. Except for Pesh apparently.

"May I ask, who the angel was, you had encountered to gain knowledge about this?" Pesh didn't bother to hide his curiosity, expecting Vergil to read through him regardless. He was a keen mind, so Pesh deemed it best to be upfront with him from the get go. Vergil also didn't tend to mince words, which Pesh found rather refreshing.

"I'd rather not stir around that particular story. Just know, it was a long time ago. Another life even."

Pesh quirked an eyebrow at his dodgy attempt of an answer, which he wouldn't let pass. He fully turned towards Vergil, small smile playing on the corner of his lips. It was unsettling to Vergil, not knowing how much Pesh was able to read and how much he actually knew, despite being asleep for so long.

Vergil clicked his tongue in annoyance, however beginning to think what harm it could really do. He certainly had the feeling, he hadn't seen the last of Lucifer back then anyway. And with Danzig around and trouble not far off but getting worse, already surrounding them perhaps, there was the slim possibility of him showing up either way. He and Danzig were friends after all. By now, knowing of the secret about Danzig's origin they probably had shared, if Lucifer really knew, it was even more likely and reasonable instead. Vergil almost laughed at his own naivety. He was sure, the old devil knew, who Danzig truly was. And the link between them out in the open, Vergil couldn't help to think, they might be related - as the so called cherry on top. At last, it all put some things into perspective for him.

And wouldn't it make Pesh a relative of the former King of Hell, as well, if this would be true?

"Lucifer." Vergil stated, with a sour look, like the name tasted bitter, rolling from the tip of his tongue.

Pesh blinked. "Come again?" But it was only to buy time and process, what he thought Vergil did just say. And naturally, Vergil didn't repeat, but gave him a scoff.

"Damn." Pesh shook his head. It was really all he could say. "I didn't know, he was still around." He sounded genuinely surprised.

"You can ask Danzig about him. As far as I know, they sporadically have contact. My brother and I, we both met him. He is alive and well – was at least back then, haven't seen him since then. But, I'm sure he still is."

Pesh bowed his head in thanks to Vergil having the courtesy to yet again share his information, more or less willingly, though he believed, Danzig would have told him sooner or later.

"Well, it's nice and all. And I don't mind the rain or the cold. But, didn't we have something to do?" Nero's voice sounded sarcastic to the bone, plus he even mustered a sneer at Vergil, as he pointed into the general direction of the club, they were supposed to be liberating.

Little did Nero know of Johnny and his ways to defend himself. Vergil still did bow like a gentleman asking for a dance. "Of course. Shall we then?"

"Save it," Nero spat at the mockery, before turning to Pesh. "And you. You didn't answer. How's it, you're out?"

Pesh pursed his lips and puffed his cheeks out. "I was allowed to. Devon is fine, she's resting. And she needs it." He put his hands on his hips, assuming a stance ready to berate them. "And you are advised to keep an eye one her. You all are at a serious advantage, when she's only human. You ought to look after her. Make her eat. Let her sleep. This is by no means a proper treatment for a human, you inconsiderate fools."

Nero gaped at him, opening and closing his mouth indignantly. But after it sunk in, despite the harsh and reproachful tone Pesh used, he lowered his head. "You're right. But there's a lot going on. And I know she has you to watch over her."

"I do, as much as I can. But this", Pesh motioned up and down his body, "is not good for her either. Whenever I channel this much energy to do this, I'm draining her. Irrevocably."

With the last word, that hit Nero right in the clenching guts, a tremor ran along the city. Deep underneath where the roots of the ancient city lay, it beat and echoed through the stone like a single pound on a huge drum.

Pesh looked down to his feet as tiny pebbles fell from the ledge he was standing close to. Vergil and Nero involuntarily did the same with eyes widening. "What the hell was that," Nero asked after a slow second.

"It seems my brother is being busy," Pesh muttered darkly. Danzig had used the gate, that much he knew for certain. But for what purpose would he do that?

"Both yours and mine are," Vergil replied, not entirely sure, how to feel about that. The angel next to him gave away nothing, as he straightened his posture. And Vergil got the feeling, Pesh knew, what was going on.

"Right." Pesh snapped his fingers. "You said work. Let's do some work."

"Finally." Nero sighed, before they jumped to the next roof. Pesh was fast, so fast Vergil had to teleport along, leaving Nero behind quickly, who huffed in annoyance. "Leave some for me, will ya!"

Pesh laughed into the storm with his ringing voice. "I highly doubt there's anyone left, save for one!"

And it was true.

Nero soon enough saw, what he had meant, still mulling over the fact, Pesh willingly accompanied them and Vergil did let him. But it was as Nero had said, he was a strong opponent, for whoever did attack the club.

Nero arrived on scene a minute later, having to pull and stretch to keep up with his companions. And when he did it was a sobering sight. Many corpses lay strewn around the barely intact vicinity. The sign only hanging by a few cables, sparks flying around and dying as soon as the rain let them die in a fizz, drenched the area in a creepy red light.

"Johnny...?" Nero questioned the whereabouts of the owner, with little hope.

Vergil approached a gaping hole in the wall. It was the only way in, seeing as the entrance was destroyed and blocked altogether by debris and the broken double doors. "Inside, maybe." With that, he ducked through the ominous dark passage, closely followed by Pesh and Nero, who still tried to catch his breath. His arm came to life in the dark, a sure sign that something did survive.

"Hey, hold your arm up and shine a light for us," Pesh whispered over his shoulder, finding it funny on one side, but also quite useful on the other. The annoyed stare he got in return was indeed worth the comment.

"I'm not your personal flashlight, you know," Nero whisper-yelled back at the angel with the obnoxious grin.

"What's a flashlight?"

"Just go." Nero didn't know how to answer. Was Pesh pulling his leg or was he really that clueless? But before he could dive to the bottom of how much Pesh was familiar with this day and age, Vergil held his hand up to get their attention and point towards the back. A heavy steel door, with numerous dents and scratches, deep and jagged, seemed still intact. Vergil estimated the damage done. It was disheartening to see.

With his bringer Nero indeed illuminated the big room enough, that once housed the big dance floor and gigantic, flashy bar, they could see it was destroyed completely. Nothing was standing or intact, safe for a lonely shot glass rolling across the ground - Pesh had shoved it out of the way with his bare foot - or an expensive leather stool, which had toppled over.

Nero sighed at the destructive force that must have traveled through the place like a hurricane. In his mind he heard the echo of flapping wings, reaching for his gun out of pure instinct.

They carefully crossed the room towards the steel door, that could hold off an entire battalion, and apparently also rampaging angels. But on closer inspection, they could see it was deformed and someone had to use great strength to pull it close. The gap it showed between frame and door was evidence for a bare success.

"Let me." Pesh pushed past Vergil, grabbing the handle, only to break it off. Pesh grunted, slightly peeved and threw it over his shoulder, missing Nero by a hair, but only because he dodged the thing actively.

Nero snarled at the angel's irrational sloppiness. "You little..."

Vergil rolled his eyes. It was like walking around with two Dante's all right. Before he could voice out his discomfort at his current situation, Pesh pried the door open, bending it's deformed hinges further. The noise made them all flinch.

Vergil readied Yamato, the cling echoed after the metal scraping noises in a sweet, deathly tone. Nero couldn't help the goosebumps breaking out at the sound of it.

"Well, we've rung the bell. Twice." Vergil spoke in his normal voice, devoid of any indication about what he thought at seeing this once lively place with the bouncing music and a bass that made his teeth vibrate, so desolate and dead. However, Vergil had to admit, it was a shame to see it like this. Though Dante had been the regular here, he too had come over once in a while. Johnny would unscrew some ancient bottle of wine and they would talk until morning. Or he would watch the self proclaimed entertainer and torch singer on one of the rare occasions on stage, which had indeed been highly amusing and good for a laugh.

Pesh peered into the dark hallway behind the door. Someone was clearly there, like he had estimated from afar earlier. Now it was Vergil, who pushed past him, to strut into the darkness and towards the wooden door at the end of this dramatically lengthy hallway.

Vergil didn't have to knock, because the moment he reached it, with the other on their toes in tow, the door opened by itself, to let warm light flood out and chase the darkness away briefly, before they all stepped inside and the door closed silently.

Johnny sat behind his desk, which looked like it got dragged through blood and mud. The carpet was in rugs and the rest of the room didn't look any better. So Vergil's initial guess came to a disheartening truth. The door didn't stand a chance. Why Johnny had even bothered to put the steel door back in place was beyond him.

Vergil watched Johnny carefully, how he sat in his leather chair, which he might have picked up from the ground, for it too had scratches all over. One armrest was missing and the black leather was slashed, with the stuffing peeking out. Johnny lounged in it with his feet on his desk. His feet were soiled with dried blood, his clothes yet were surprisingly untouched. His white-blonde hair was ruffled and pulled back into a very messy ponytail. The trademark banjo lay across his lap, both hands clutching the blue corpus like a dead lover.

The twin was distraught at how worn out the siren looked. And only now he noticed the half empty bottle of whiskey, the neck entirely missing, and the sharp smell that wafted over because of that. Johnny must have been sitting here like this since the phone call, he assumed. No enemy was in sight. Dead. Or worse. They had fled.

"They're all gone." Johnny finally spoke with a long defeated sigh. He grabbed the bottle and took a swig, not too carefully watching the sharp edges. It wouldn't matter one way or the other, for his face showed also a gruesome amount of slashes, which should be healed by now, but the crust of blood still visible told them he did fight directly and probably for his life.

"I'm sorry, Johnny." Vergil stepped closer, still observing the eerily calm siren in harsh contrast to the amount of destruction to the room.

"So many dead. It was a swift strike. Hard and swift. Some escaped into the night and all I can do is to hope they made it to safety. They killed humans and demons alike. It didn't make a difference. They wanted them all dead. And pretty much succeeded." He hiccuped and his face became wet from fresh tears, as he drained the bottle in a long gulp, before he let it fall to the ground where it rolled towards them from underneath the desk.

Pesh watched it with interest, not knowing the scent of this drink the demon in front of him consumed so deliberately. His heart like the corpse of a ship into dark depth. The demon was full of remorse and sorrow, he could taste it on his tongue, the oily bitterness of pain and the salty burn of agony.

"They were to many. But, you did save some, and it's all that matters. You tried." Strange enough, it wasn't Vergil talking, but a voice Johnny had never heard before in his life. And by that Johnny didn't mean like, he never heard that person before, but never in his entire life had he heard a voice like that.

He lifted his desolate face and a devastated look met Pesh. The angel felt like hitting a colossal, supremely solid, yet utterly invisible wall in his head. And this was the last thing he expected – to crash right through it and even gain momentum as he propelled towards that epiphany, the same he had subtly felt himself with meeting the twins and Nero. Here was another demon, a creature of eternal, watery graves and dark depth, sitting right there in the shining neon light of a foreign world - and he wept for the ones, whom were lost, with all his heart.

Johnny sniffed. "I did." He wiped his still gorgeous face, despite the carnage it did testify to have seen, and nodded to himself. "I tried."

Pesh crossed the small space and walked around the desk. He noted the instrument on the siren's lap, all strings were broken, safe for one. And like a tiny silver lining it seemed, and not only to Pesh. "You made them pay."

Johnny watched the hand petting his banjo and then another, strong and reassuring, on his trembling shoulder. He felt the touch burn. And it warmed him up from where it lay to spread this serene comfort for his profound regret. Solace.

"Yes. I left none alive."

"You did right. This was a serious crime. And it had been paid for in blood." Pesh's strength seemed to connect, like his words and Johnny felt his ache all the more, but also his heart did become lighter under Pesh.

Vergil and Nero stood rooted on their spots, watching Pesh radiate and glow. His fierce eyes alight as he pulled Johnny from his vale of tears with only a single attempt. Sirens do love their sadness as much as their happiness. And Pesh would try to make him happy again. The creature had defended his kin desperately and just alike, he did fight for the poor humans, that now lay outside, with dead eyes towards the darkened sky.

"The fight will go on." Pesh concluded, voice as firm as his touch, Johnny eventually looked up at the blonde, he didn't know and never once saw the likes of him in his life, but he felt to be trusted. His pearly eyes blinked up at the brightness, the room suddenly was in.

"Will you?" The angel looked down with a soft expression and Johnny nodded. "I will."

And as he found his own firmness in his mind and body, he attempted to stand and was pulled up like one pole of a magnet by it's counterpart. Johnny knew magic. He practiced magic and he was a magical, mythical creature through and through. However, the blonde boy had a completely different kind of arsenal flowing from the open palm of his hand. It was as frightening as it was compelling. Johnny drank it all up only to crave for more. And the scent of cotton candy and bourbon, vanilla and his favorite cigar brand cleared his mind, rather than to cloud it. Exceptional.

"What are you? Who are you," Johnny asked, as they stood in front of one another. The siren easily towered over most people, being a few inches taller than the twins no less, but Pesh met him almost on eye level, magnificent golden swirls, that Johnny fell into and needed to clutch the desk with one hand, staggering backwards but found his composure quickly. That also came a little unexpected.

Pesh grabbed his other hand in order to first shake it, also secondly out of concern the siren might fall over. "I am Pesh. Happy to make your acquaintance." As if that would explain everything, he didn't feel the need to add anything further, adding to Johnny's general befuddlement.

"Is that how you kids introduce yourself these days?" Johnny's wit though hadn't entirely left him. He cocked his head to the side, slightly amused.

Nero just shook his head at Pesh, but answered the siren on the angel's behalf. "He doesn't know to human. Or whatsoever. Don't mind him."

Pesh let go of Johnny to give Nero a disapproving glare, while the club owner stared back and forth between his hand and Pesh's disgruntled face, that had turned towards the younger hunter.

"What do you mean, he doesn't know?" His voice sounded absent and he didn't even pay attention to his own mouth, because he felt the strong urge to grab Pesh's hand once more, but resisted. Barely.

"He's a new colleague. For now." Vergil told Johnny, who was still too busy to look at his hand and the tingling aftermath of the touch. He couldn't put his finger on it.

Pesh let out a laugh to Vergil's dodgy reply. "Let's not go that far." Nero could only look confused, before he went straight on to concur Pesh, confusing Vergil just the same. "Yeah. Let's not."

Nero though was fairly puzzled by Vergil and his overall approach towards Pesh. Maybe he saw something that wasn't there? Maybe he saw more, than Nero did? He did have to give Pesh credit though. Actually, he owed him. He wasn't sure what, not really thinking he might have lost his life at the car crash and in retrospect, Devon was pretty much out of death's reach for as long as Pesh was here, yet every day it also was a step closer to it. Oh, the irony wasn't lost on Nero either. However, there, where he believed, he'd feel only bitterness towards a being, bringing him nearer to the thought of being powerless, it also held on small ray of light. Heaven did exist, and he was sure, wherever Kyrie was, it must have been there.

But that granted him another truth, he already had buried in his mind – Hell also was a real place. And surely, he would go there. He'd never see her again. The cursed blood would see to it. Nonetheless, Nero felt solace, when looking at Pesh. Solace in really having knowledge of something true for once in his life. And somehow, he felt lighter with it.

They made their way back outside and into the rain, but it had stopped. There was a sad silence surrounding them. Water trickled somewhere out of sight, probably from a busted pipe, the sizzling from the electric current had stopped, the sign had went dark. Johnny sighed at the sight of his once glorious place of leisure and momentary bliss. "Look at it."

His eyes scanned the dead bodies. Angels, humans, demons. All together and their blood mixing quietly and slowly seeping into the stone and down the gutter to God knows where. If it could be this easy as they had been alive. Mixing together and go along with it.

Vergil patted Johnny's shoulder, awkwardly, but well meant. "How long do you need?" Of course, he expected him to come with them. And Johnny wouldn't have wanted it any other way. "Few days tops. I need to clean up...and..." His voice failed him and he turned away.

Nero briefly saw the turmoil on his face and Vergil's incapability to find the right words, that haven't already been said. "Hey, just do what you gotta do. You know where to find us, once you're ready."

Johnny waved him off shyly. If Vergil and Nero together made an effort to make someone feel better, and that this one wasn't Dante, it made it clear how much his usual demeanor must be missing. But, it was only natural, right? "I'm fine guys. Thanks. I'll be with you in a few days. Until that, kick some angel ass for me will ya."

The hunters both slipped a look at Pesh, who just shrugged it off nonchalantly. His kin didn't seem worth much these days. He just hoped, it wasn't applying to all the Heaven's.

Johnny's face lit up suddenly, catching their looks. "Oh, goddammit! That's it, isn't it?"

Pesh flinched at his outburst, then watched him giggle like a maniac, but remained silent, waiting for it subside.

"You're one of those?" Johnny blinked incredulous at Pesh, who finally displayed a small smile. "What of it?"

"You're the real deal!" To all their surprise, he seemed happy about it. "I saw them and they didn't feel like you. Not at all. All feathers and wings, but hollow eyes. But, you're different."

Pesh was fully smiling now, lighting up the entire area, as it would seem. "Yes, I am."

"Wow. Just wow." Johnny marveled at the angel and his effortless display of an enchantment, he thought only he could do. Pesh's smile did pluck a smile from all of them, involuntarily or not. It was contagious.

"Why do you act, like I'm a myth out of a drunken fairy tale?" The angel crossed his arms in front of his chest, shifting his weight from one to the other and thrust his left hip out. Sassy.

"Because I never saw one in my whole existence, until now. That's why I couldn't place you. I sensed it, but I couldn't file it under anything I've come across. And let me tell you, I met a whole lotta strange creatures in my time." Johnny explained, to add sense and let him know, he was very satisfied with figuring it out his origin. Pesh was relieved, knowing Johnny did certainly not throw him together with the attackers, but put Pesh on a whole new page in his brain and the extensive knowledge he claimed to have.

"Hey, you know old hags tend to tell stories about sirens? Don't act like I am any different than you." Pesh's voice betrayed his miffed expression. It sounded amused, kind of.

"I'm sorry pal, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to insult you. But man, I met an angel. An actual angel. I can usually tell on sight, what they are. And now I know, what an angel feels like. Not like those actually, who looked like it." Johnny giggled still, but it soon died down. His eyes rested on Pesh, as he nervously twiddled his thumps in front of his belly, while a tensed silence ensued, before Pesh groaned. "What do you wanna know?"

Johnny clapped his hands, gleefully gesturing up and down the angel and towards the sky. "Everything."

Pesh snorted. "Well, that certainly will have to wait, pal. Just know, those hollow creatures are still entirely different from me, even if they are of the same race. Like you said, hollow creatures, only meant for one purpose." He mimicked Johnny's whole gestures and expression down to a T, which amused the siren even more. Doesn't know how to human, but certainly was getting there trying.

Johnny sobered up for a moment and extended his hand. "I can already tell. But, it's a deal, then. Once we have the time, we sit down, have a B52, or whatever it is you drink, and you tell me all you know." They shook on it, but seeing Pesh's questioning, almost helpless look towards the other two, Nero assumed he didn't remotely understand, what he was getting himself into.

"He's gonna be drunk by the third one."

"What's a B52 anyway?" Pesh sounded happily confused, which looked like a serious touch of naivety to Vergil, that definitely needed some helpful clarification. "It's a mixed drink of alcohol and coffee, which you should avoid." He really had no idea, how an angel reacted to alcohol. Danzig was doing fine, but he only stuck to sip his cognac. Vergil tried to remember, if he had seen Danzig drunk ever, slightly tipsy yes, but nothing more.

"Oh, Verge. I would never make him drunk. On purpose."

On purpose, yeah right.

Vergil could only sneer at the siren. The biggest hangover he ever had was from trying to drink with Johnny. Dante could hold his liquor just as much, but Vergil couldn't. This had been the hard way to find out and a night, he certainly never wanted to remember. Since his return, Vergil hadn't thought about it and even with the events happening at that time, in his hazy mind it seemed, that those had been happier times. Even if only for a while.

"Well, we shook on it, so I can't back out." Pesh shrugged at them. How bad could it be? And secretly he wished, he could do that. Sit down with this intriguing man and forget all his worries and talk for days and nights, for the siren looked like he had seen a lot of things. But right now, it was all just speculation and he thought, the opportunity would never come either way.

Nero tapped his foot and viewed them for a moment with a weight, that settled on his sinking shoulders. He too suddenly wished for a peaceful time, where they all could just sit and enjoy themselves. Maybe it was seeing the place utterly destroyed, maybe it was seeing Johnny sad, which never happened before, or it was the car crash and the fight that still lingered in the back of his head, but it all affected him just the same. Their was change everywhere. And for the worse. People in danger, people dying again. He might have even known some of them.

He glanced at Vergil, who also had a melancholic look on his face. The fun was over.

"Let's go home. Dante might be back. Let's see what they where up to." Nero requested and the tremor from earlier did come to mind again. Vergil nodded wordlessly and they bid their farewell to Johnny for the time being. The siren watched them dash away and huffed, while rubbing his tired face. There was sad work to do, before joining the hunters, which he couldn't wait for. Something smelled very fishy since the coming of the riders, and it wasn't him. He chuckled mildly at his own joke. To contrary belief, he was a patient man and he would get his answers sooner or later.

Halfway back, Vergil came to a halt, gesturing for the other two follow him. They exchanged a bemused look as to what might have caught Vergil's attention and change in direction. They followed nonetheless, keeping a distance to see where he would veer to and he trusted them to come after him.

Vergil had caught traces of Dante's aura and picked up the trail. He had vanished from his mind and senses for quite some time and the slight tremor did not feel right, even when Pesh let him know, it had something to do to where Danzig had led them. Presumably so far beneath, Vergil lost his contact with his brother, and he didn't let anyone know, but that was unsettling him to the very core. Vergil had to admit, even if the riders and Danzig where with him, he was anxious to feel him again.

The relief flooded him as they saw the lanky figure of Danzig, the white head on broad shoulders from Dante and both the riders bigger shadows behind them, emerge from the tree line that marked the beginning of the wooded old park.

"Long time, no see." Dante greeted them with his usual wry smile. Vergil's narrowed eyes scanned his brother for any sign of a ruffle and was pleased when everything was in order. His coat was dusty, but that was a given.

Pesh gathered the most stares and was kind of shyly avoiding eye contact with everyone. Yes, he was the odd one out and yes, he knew. And yes, he wasn't supposed to be out. And no, everything was fine.

When the swift interrogation by his brother was finished and both parties had declared their unscathed state, Pesh received a ruffle to his golden locks by Dante. He wanted to object, being petted like a damn dog, yet strange enough, the sentiment felt nicer, than he wanted to admit. How Dante dared to do that was beyond him, but seeing Nero receive the same treatment, Pesh blamed it on his looks, not far off where Nero might was in human years. Maybe that was the only reason. And quite honestly, Pesh really didn't mind, the further he thought about it. It seemed like an act of endearment. Nero complained though, but Pesh only smiled to himself

On the way back home, they briefed each other and it was as Pesh had thought. Nero was in shock, Vergil not so much, or rather masking his astonishment like always. The look he shared with his brother though, spoke volumes. What had they themselves gotten into? An actual gate to Heaven right beneath their feet. Under the remains of Temen-ni-gru no less.

And here, both their minds veered off, calculating, thinking. Was it why the tower didn't entirely disappear, like a ragged tooth still standing high above the cityscape?

Was it connected? Was there ever a possibility, why Arkham had summoned it there? Did he do it on purpose? Was he drawn to the spot without knowing? Was Vergil? He thought about it. He tried to remember bits and pieces, for the years in hell had made his mind fuzzy and he forgot things he should know and knew things he shouldn't. His short time with Arkham never alluded to him knowing anything about and just as Danzig had told them, he was the only one around to know this. Along his brethren. And probably Lucifer. Vergil felt like prodding his brain for clues was sticking forks blindly into a haystack, hoping to get a squeal out of a poked culprit. No, Arkham was a deluded, half transformed maniac, his demon ritual making a damn mess of his mind, which he tried to hide behind sophisticated manners. Vergil shivered involuntarily at the thought of hearing his nonsensical ramblings, probably self indulgent over his own voice, ever again. He remembered, how good it had felt to stab him and twist that blade in his guts, making him eat his words. Incomplete, his ass. He was the one still standing, not some conjured,slapped together demonic mess, but a true demon blood. But their pride had been their very own downfall for each of them.

Vergil swallowed the bitter rancor, threatening to cloud his foggy mind altogether, making it hard to stay focused all the same. One last glance at Danzig and Dante, then he gazed up ahead, senses keen on his surroundings, for everyone else was up in chatter, he didn't feel much need to participate in, but also not wanting to hang himself up yet again in dark thoughts. Everything will come together in the end. He just had to keep a clear sight and watch from the backseat until things fell into place.

Dante, being at point alongside Danzig and Pesh, showed much remorse for not being able to spare Johnny from the events, but welcomed his help all the more. Love Planet attacked and, with all angels defeated, still no clue how they came here.

They still mulled things over, having Death at the center of it, who told them of a way, he himself had once used, when he had been on his journey to clear War's name. It was out of question for the hybrids to visit one of the many outposts of the White Cities Lostlight and the heavenly plains, but Danzig volunteered, though Death reminded him of the still unsolved issue with his vault of weapons, he wanted within this realm to guard it. Also, he doubted, Danzig setting foot into the divine realm would not go unnoticed either, hard to unravel magic shield or not. They would know an angel, when they saw one.

Vergil listened closely again, for the issue of the vault he had discussed with the riders before, many ideas and thoughts had begun swirling in his head. He once had given Danzig a task and had not yet gotten to ask, if it was finished. But knowing, the shop would be soon very cramped, he was now ready to see it through and let Dante know. Let them all know, for that matter.

He had poured many a resource into it, since he came back and it was kind of a very personal matter to see it in all it's former glory. Even if it was inherently linked with many a memory and the last one too painful still to bear - he wanted it nonetheless. A proper family heirloom. A sanctuary. So, why not make it a sanctuary for all of them?

It would get them out of harms way. It would be safe to stay there and it certainly held the space for that damn abomination vault of Death and have it secured under the very same roof. He didn't know, how Dante would take it, if he would take it at all and in a nutshell, Vergil couldn't predict, how Dante would react.

Well, Vergil had good reasons to eventually point out and let them see the advantages. The riders wouldn't care, they would probably be thankful for more room. The attic wasn't sufficient enough for all of them. Dante's room was a mess, Nero's room was empty, safe for one bed. The kitchen would never be able to hold this many all at once, now counting Johnny along the still short line of defenders.

It was the most logical thing to do.

Pesh stopped dead in his tracks, his ever present, but dim glow flaring like a wildfire. Danzig felt it before Pesh illuminated the different faces of their merry band of huddled together specimen. "What's going on?" Nero piped up irritated at the sudden light, betraying their position from way too far away. Little did he know, it didn't matter anymore.

"We've been surrounded." Pesh stated, head whipping to every direction, pinpointing each opponent under the heavy clouds.

Just like Johnny said before, the flock came in swift and hard.

Yamato sang instantly, Rebellion chopped the head clean off the first attacker, the following two were cut clean in half by Vergil's invisible wind blades.

Pesh launched forward, Danzig heaved a heavy sigh, plucking the words from his brain, chocked full like a room with stacked papers. He shuffled through them, weaving his threads around the group, protecting them from the fires being hurled from a distance.

"Don't tread out of it," he yelled after an infuriated Pesh, who didn't even pretend to listen, but instead crashed right into the flock, scattering them wide and making it easier for Nero to single them out and pluck them from above, smashing them at War's, Death's and Dante's feet to finish them off one by one.

The level of prowess and working together almost effortlessly did stall the flock, trying to huddle together, forming an all out attack on the being farthest away from the group.

Danzig stared wide eyed, the flurry of wings surrounding his younger brother in no time.

"What's the idiot doing?" Nero revved his blade, ready to run for it, but Dante stopped him. "Whatever you do, don't step out of Danzig's spell."

There were to many foes to get through to him just yet, Vergil and Dante braced themselves, Nero revved his sword up once more, feeling the heat under his touch. "Come, get some." he waved his bringer at them.

Pesh did feel the pain, as his enemies plucked at his form, bit by bit, piece by piece. It hurt and his wrath rose with it. He burst in flames, a circle of fire surrounding him, burning through his opponents' bodies, yet he felt his powers fluctuating, dwindling with each stab from their enchanted blades.

His fury countered his rational actions, all he did was throw punches blindly, trying to connect them wherever. His hands were on fire, literally, grabbing their wings, tearing them apart like paper stacks, feathers hurled around like a hurricane, sticking with their blood to his form.

He could hear his brother yell for him, but didn't care. They would have to annihilated, violating everything he stood for. The carnage they inflicted. Before his eyes flashed the image of all those dead bodies at the club.

He grabbed the head of one of his enemies. "What are you doing?!" His first punch dented the helmet and nose guard. "Why?!" He yelled and delivered another punch, the helmet cracked from the nose guard to split in the middle.

The sound was sickening, like squishing juice out of an orange, as Pesh grabbed the top of the head. The soldier angel looked at him with wide eyes and laughed. A hollow laugh, that held no emotion to feel, but instead mocked him openly.

Pesh stared directly into those white, pupil-less eyes, devoid of anything, a void inside their heads, but he could tell, somewhere in there was something left. Something was watching through the lifeless eyes of this soldier.

Pesh thought he'd go crazy, a flurry of emotion cursing through him like the bed of a small river trying to contain the ice-cold flood, swapping over the edges, covering the lands and ripping anything away to tear it with the current. A bubbling mass of rage and dire need to find reason, to hear the justification for these gruesome actions.

"Why kill the humans?" He crushed the skull with his bare hand, magnesium flash like light shot through the eyes of the dead one. Pesh hurled it to the ground, before landing on top of the dead body, squashing it beneath his bare feet, feel the warm blood and guts gushing between his toes.

Two more came for him, one he simply flung one to the side, swatting the body away like a puny fly, crashing it into the nearest building. The other one he held by it's throat, crushing it's windpipe until it gurgled. Pesh's eyes smoldered at him, trying to see past the masquerade and the eyes were just the same white nothings like the other one before. He pulled his elbow back, flexed and crashed the angel head forward into the pavement, literally forming a hole to fit the head in. Pesh breathed heavy through his nostrils, he was a burning with rage, the flames scorched the enemy angel, charring his skin and incinerating his hair, his helmet had broken into numerous pieces. The golden bits melted under Pesh's eyes, leaving glittering pools around them.

"This is not what we stand for! Not what I stand for," he shouted at his victim's dimming eyes. The life, or whatever magic kept it alive, left at an alarming speed. His crashed bones too much to take, and the wrath of an angel, older than the human world, burned it's own life away. Scorching his shell, melting it's body under the grasp. Pesh let him go, pushing him down by the throat before he stood up, kicking the dead body three times and crying his heart out.

All the pain he had felt, coming from the siren, seeping through and painting his soul red, their must be some higher force to rely on to explain this madness. Pesh called it madness. But their must be reason buried somewhere, where he couldn't see it.

He had been trapped for so long. All the loneliness and pain gushed out of him, delivering harsh kicks to the ragged doll until it didn't resemble any form, except for the soiled and bloodied wings sticking out at weird angles from beneath.

"I will not tolerate this," he whispered, after he had beaten his anger right out of his own system, by venting on a lifeless form. The small amount of rage he couldn't still contain formed angry tears in his eyes, leaving smudgy trails along his dirty face. His hair was that of a scarecrow, sticking out, the locks drenched in blood, glowing obscenely orange in his own light.

He stared down at the mangled body he mistreated on full intent, breathing heavily and clutching his hands to his chest, trying to fight the angry tears way. His heart just couldn't comprehend anything.

Disbelief all plastered over his features as he realized how wildly he had reacted, so out of character, he was shocked into a state of catatonia. Could he be blamed though? He didn't know. His mind was a mess to himself. One thing was clear though, he didn't endure ages of banishment and deprivation of freedom to see this. How did it come to this?

A loud cry jolted his body awake, his head swiveled around, staring into the faces of another heard, that had gained distance and came for him on swift wings. Pesh wished,he could have his own back. But they had been obliterated just like his true body.

The fight was far from over and he did burn his strength away like a dumb child. Pesh gritted his teeth at his own stupidity. He still had a lot to learn about this form of his. He felt drained and heavy already, as he launched himself into the air, meeting the spear of the flock head on. Swords clanged and he found himself in a body lock, thrashing madly to kick their hands and swords away, grunting and heaving at the sturdy hold to his chest.

He watched in shock as one of them lifted the blade to cut through him, with Pesh Pesh barely able to deflect the blow, he didn't bleed as it cut through his thigh, or at least it's what they thought, but light was gushing from it, briefly blinding anything close by.

Pesh roared in agony. It was a sight as beautiful as disturbing for Dante and Vergil to witness from up close, feeling what Pesh did, and it hit them both with much force, twisting their guts and making them go blind with rage, just like Pesh himself had. He bled blazing light and it stunned their foes for a precious moment – all, the twins needed.

Dante and Vergil locked gazes, the connection enhanced with each other, feeling each others heart beat in their constricting chest.

Dante triggered instantly, Vergil followed only apart by a mere second. Dante threw Rebellion, impaling three angels at once, Vergil drew his blade, upward and downward, signing his attack with a cross, that cut through the air with it's singing noise. Pesh heard it next to his ear, his senses heightened, and jerked his head back just in time.

He was free to move, the last blade, trying to pierce his chest melted before his eyes and left a clear sight on the blue and red devil, so similar, yet so different.

The ice cold vision of Vergil freezing him to the core, while Dante's aura warmed him just the same. Like moving your cracking cold knuckles with a rejuvenating campfire. Pesh punched the last one remaining to the face, hearing the armor crack under his fingers. It fell like a lump and hit the ground, splattering it's insides all over the ground before vanishing in a whiff of white smoke.

The flock was diminishing, but the riders and Nero still had their hands full. Nero revved Red Queen and she roared like a wounded beast. The engine inside was close to overheating, as Nero set the angels aflame, trying to cut through them.

Death scythes were quick and deadly, wings, bones, metal. Nothing withstood the dark magic and infused sharp blades. War swung his sword around like a maniac, slower than Death, but were it hit it not only cut but squashed it's enemies easily. Streaks of blood across his face, he laughed at Death, who replied with a grunt. They both felt magnificent in the heat of battle, exactly where they belonged. And the creatures, that threw themselves so willingly at them didn't put up much of a challenge. War held his position steady, with Death circling around him, protecting his back, they were used to this, fighting alongside each other in a trained move set, ready to strike, when the other didn't.

"Get back here." Dante's voice sounded gravely, hollowed, lie speaking through a dark tunnel. Pesh held his hands to his ears, the demonic voice vibrating in his ear drum, made him dizzy.

Damn, he never remembered the sound of a demon talking to be this painful. It was like screeching on metal and shrill, layered whistles, and dark, roaring waves too loud and drowing out any other noise.

He prayed for them to revert to their initial state and shut up the voice, that pierced his soul like swords of his enemies, which laid bare in this form for everyone to see. The only thing, that had dulled the harsh sounds was Devon and her body, a prison as much as a safeguard.

Pesh's eyes rolled into the back of his head, but before he could crash to the ground and hit his head, Dante caught him effortlessly. The burn hit him unprepared, and his trigger form faded like a flickering flame, until he stoked it himself by reverting back.

His human skin didn't feel the pain, but the sensation was still pricking him, like stitches of numerous, tiny needles. He should have thought about that. But he gritted his teeth and gathered the light form of Pesh in his massive arms.

He relied on Vergil for now, and naturally his twin didn't disappoint, controlled, forceful strikes cleared their path. He vanished in a blue flickered from their staggering opponents sight only to appear a blink later in their backs, to cut swift and hard, or pierce their chest, swishing Yamato upward to cut them in half. Effortless.

A hurricane of sharp blades and the last three separating them from the rest of the group, Vergil patted his arm and sided with the riders, leaving Dante next to Danzig. Pesh stirred immediately, after Dante laid him down, He lifted his upper body and swished the hair that fallen over his eyes and sticking to his forehead, out of the way.

"Breathe for a moment. We'll take care of the rest." Dante had eyes glued to Nero, who's sword seemed to melt hilt downwards, the glow didn't falter nor fade through his attacks. He threw it to the ground in angry fit. The Red Queen didn't do good against them, apparently. Whatever magic had resided within the sword was diminishing further with each cut. The engine was nothing but a sad blubber.

If Nero wanted to fight properly, Dante knew, he definitely needed a sword fit for him. Dante involuntarily touched Rebellion, humming in unison with his inner devil. Nero would need a sword like this. A sword fit for a true devil, trigger or not. Nero still was a damn strong hybrid and every normal manufactured weapong was cut out for him and his harsh sword fighting style.

"I only need a minute." Pesh huffed, rubbing both his cheeks and jaw with his hands, willing some warmth to return from his unplanned faint. He squared his jaw, angry at himself.

"You were reckless," Danzig snarled, without sparing him a glance. He was fuming on his inside, but able to control his body and mouth, only sparing Pesh's exhausted form a quick glance.

Dante left Danzig to reprimand his younger sibling in peace and all due diligence he needed, and to additionally focus on his spell and. With one last assuring glance from Danzig, he dashed to where the fight still lasted.

Nero groaned at Red Queen, the sword giving up on him as it mattered the most. He couldn't even touch it any longer, it was hot like an iron tstraight from a melting oven.

Damn that thing, nothing but a relic of the Order.

He flung it aside and gave it a thorough kick on it's way. Instead he zeroed in on his anger, directing it to fuel his bringer, which flared up, a vibrant beacon to gather around in this rainy night. Foes and froends alike where circling him, making himthe center, with a cirlce of defenders around him against the heavenly onlsaught of loud flapping wings and enchanted blades and hollow eyes under thick armour.

Nero made fast work - grabbing his opponents and smashing them head first to the ground. It did make him feel somuch better. "Fucking! Feathered! Pissflaps!" Every word was followed by a smash, until the corpse didn't resemble anything, than a meaty mush in battered armor and disjointed wings, drenched in it's own blood.

"He's an angry one." Death chuckled, but was grateful, for the kid did make it easier to dispose of the enemies at a good pace. "Cursing like a dead sailor."

"Let him, he's doing good," War said to his brother, before turning his gleaming eyes to Nero. "Keep it up."

Nero, fueled by the praise of the huge Horseman, flexed his bringer with a cocky grin. "At your service." The next one came down, crashing into the ground, only to be impaled by Vergil and nailed to the ground by Dante, finally joining them in the main battle afer their short retrieval detour. "Everything in order?" Dante winked at them, quickly taking up a fair spot amidst their ranks with Vergil by his side.

"Peachy," Nero replied with a side glance at Red Queen, which Dante noticed with a shrug. "Don't worry. We'll get back in shape. Or get you soemthign better."

"I'm not worried. Just pissed. She can rot for all I care." Before they could deepen the matter of a fitting weapon for Nero, the last wave came crashing in, but with the twins it was managable. Nero was about to ask Dante, what he real had meant with a new sword, but yet agin got interrupted for Death snarled loudly. "There," he pointed one of his scythe upwards. "Quick. It'll escape." His eyes had scanned the sky and

Dante readied Rebellion to send it after the last retreating angel, high in the sky, but Death shoved his sword out of the way. "Nero? Bringer."

The younger hunter gave Death a puzzled look. "Give me a boost." Death clarified in his charmingly annoyed voice.

No way. "You serious?" He wouldn't hurl Death to his death..would he? The rider coudln't die, right? Or break his bones?

"Quick." Death lef thim no time for further quarrels. Inwards and outwards.

Nero's bringer sang, conjured to hover over the ground, ready for the pale rider to jump in it's palm. And as he did, he gave Nero a curt nod.

Nero's pulled a face between disbelief and dread, not believing he was about to do this. He practically threw the rider the direction of the escaping enemy, groaning loudly. Death roared, as he was hurled upwards, like a rocket. "Don't forget to catch me."

"Well, that's one way to do it." Dante remarked snidely, yet he did seem amused, twirling Rebellion once before putting it back onto his back.

Nero's eyes bulged out of their sockets. "He's mad." But his control over his demon arm was trained, his mark dead on, Death shot upwards and the last enemy didn't even know what hit him as Death grabbed his wings, ripping at them until they came off. The scream reached the group on the ground a second later.

"Wait. Did he say 'catch me'?" Nero stared up, not daring to loose sight of the rider, who he knew would be beyond mad, if he'd let him fall. He'd survive, but it would still hurt, he ventured with a nervous twitch in his guts.

The corpse rotated in a dizzy spin as Death let it go, eyes glued onto Nero, readying himself for the impact of the arm.

Nero reached out, waiting until the rider was in reach and plucked him out of the sky, like he did with the angels before. He did need all of his left ability to focus on retreating his bringer and not let it pop like a bubble, cursing inwardly.

Death escaped a breathless 'oof', but other than that, Nero was surprisingly gentle. Death felt like a cube of ice in his ghostly grasp. He moved as delicately as he could, and Death was silent until he was put back with both heavy boots on the ground. It did work and no one got hurt or squashed in the process.

Nero wiped his nose, after his bringer vanished around Death, who examined himself only to look satisfied, he didn't expect nothing less, but didn't say that out loud.

Dante patted Nero's back. "Huh, I never thought of that. Keep that move in mind."

"What did you expect? I can control it just fine, you know." Nero replied slightly annoyed, boosting his own confidence with saying that. "Never said anything else. I know you can." Dante pursed his lips and held his hands up in a pacifying motion, thinking the kid really needed to chill, sometimes.

"By the way, what's wrong with him?" Nero steered the conversation way from himself, feeling exposed under Dante's eyes, that had watched him like a hawk, even if he thought he didn't give it away. Nero knew he had been nervous, just like himself. Yet Death had assumed he could do it and he did, which was feeling damn good. Death had showed, he trusted him. And in Nero's book, it counted, thrice. Death believed he could do it, or just assumed it to be a given, and Nero did succeed.

Dante watched Pesh, still on the ground, solding his knees and restinghis forehead on his arms. Poor thing. "I don't know."

They gathered around Danzig and his brother, with Nero bowing down to him, but the opressing scent made him reconsider. He quickly backed up to take a spot in between the twins. "Is he fine? What about Devon?"

Pesh opened his weary eyes at hearing Nero talk. "She's okay. I'm okay."

"You should switch." Nero pressed on, wanting to have confiramtion she really was.

"I can't. She's asleep. I don't want to disturb her."

Nero feared, it might have been a polite excuse for she's passed out because he overdid it, again. "But she's fine? Not like the last time, right?"

Pesh huffed, his eyes burning into Nero's for such apparent distrust. The nerve of the guy. "I just said so." He closed his eyes again, not wanting to see the skepticism on the younger one's face any longer. If anyone was caring for her, it was himself or so he believed. But, it was a lie. He knew better than that, seeing it everyone's eyes and it hurt. Yet, his heart swelled equally. His host had indeed found a good group of earnest people.

"Well, he is gonna be fine. And he is right. The woman is alright, too." Danzig intervened, to give his brother some credit. Pesh rolled his head around. "Thank you." It didn't sound satisfied though. And he knew why.

"But, that doesn't mean it was right for you to charge face first. That was dangerous."

Pesh sighed, waving him off lazily. "Won't happen again."

"Does it hurt?" Danzig looked down, Pesh's form of light barely a gentle buzz, due to him calming down and feeling remorse. "What do you think?" Pesh did a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, not feeling up to discuss it further. Of course it did.

"Please, for my sake. Start to make sense." Dante crossed his arms over his chest while swaying back and forth on his heels impatiently.

Pesh rejected him by staying silent and inspected his hands instead. But Danzig spoke, explaining Pesh's state for everyone to hear, while the younger angel tried to pan it out, grinding his teeth.

"It's quite simple actually. Pesh is a soul, that oyu know. A special one, yes. But still a soul. When they attacked him, they attacked his very soul."

Dante went slack jawed, eyeing Pesh, then raising a brow at Danzig. No one spoke.

"He resides inside our little friend here. His soul is basically protected inside her, just like yours." He motioned at Dante's heart, making him grab the spot involuntarily, grazing his nails over his coat.

"And when he assumes this form it's him, expanding his energy. His soul is growing and taking form. An angels soul is very dense. It can grow and enlarge, be formed and molded. Whenever he comes out, as you put it, it's his soul shaping around the body and protecting her. So, they cut his very soul, when he engaged them. Cutting through it, away from it, piece by piece."

The silence was increasing.

Nero's jaw went slack, jsut as Dante's before him. That didn't sound like anything remotely safe to do on purpose. It sounded like something extremely stupid to do, baring your soul to whoever was near, literally. Especially to an enemy, with a sword, powerful enough to do some serious damage.

Danzig disregarded the stunned faces of his two hunters. As for the riders, they already knew, they saw it the moment they met Pesh and his pure energy, taking the shape of his former self.

Dante's face went blank, the further the explaining went from his mentor, chewing on his lip in deep thoughts. Pesh willingly let his soul be damaged. He went down on one knee in front of Pesh, who refused eye contact. "It can heal."

Danzig huffed. "It can, but it takes time. It's far more resilient than the human one. But still, I won't allow it. You're too precious to go out like that. From here on, I forbid it."

"You're no marshal anymore." Pesh replied nonchalant. He couldn't even remember the times, when they stood side by side on the silver peak of the dome in the middle of the white city, where his brother indeed had been marshal of the guard. And Pesh had always refused to join his ranks. His fiery and free spirit had never been cut out for it. He was seen as an instigator. And hadn't they been right about it.

"But I am still your brother."

Vergil and Dante exchanged a look, that no one could estimate, something between remorse and shame, while Death and his brother War nodded at each other, having already reached that kind of understanding after long struggles for each other. They all felt the deep warmth gushing out from those words and reaching into everyone's being, so deep inside, where things were normally buried, to never see the light of day again.

The silence, that followed was heavy, coating the scene with a misty layer of sadness. Suddenly no one felt like talking anymore. Nero just wanted to go home. And it hit him right in the already wrenching guts. Home. He looked over to Dante and Vergil, both with, for once completely alike faces, both muddled in thoughts.

Brothers, huh. He shook his head to himself. He had no siblings, but if he ever knew how that felt, it was like this. The twins and how they treated him. Sometimes suffocating him with the need to protect and control his every decision. And why? With this epiphany evident, nagging at his brain and seeping into his heart he knew: they felt closest to him like no one ever. Might be shared blood at first, but it was so much more, something that couldn't be put in words nor ever be grasped with solid hands. The love of a brother was a strong thing, that didn't bent to nothing. Not to stupid things they did, not to a ill judged decision, or a hidden truth that surfaced, nor a crime. It stood proud and over everything. Though neither of them had said it, put it in words, their actions spoke more clearly to Nero now. And he would be a fool to make himself believe he didn't care. He did. That's why he had hidden his inability to trigger. And that's why he listened to Dante earlier, and stayed in the protective circle. He didn't want to jeopardize their relationship and his feeling of belonging somewhere. With every job and every demon lurking, he was afraid they wouldn't return. And that's why he hated to be weak. He wanted to protect them as much as they wanted to protect him.

Nero shifted his weight from one leg to another, his heart pounding with the heavy thoughts, he sifted through. He shook his head as to get rid of them. "Let's go home. I'm tired of the rain." And the gloomy feeling, but that, he kept for himself.

No one objected. Danzig heaved Pesh to his feet, looking closely to see any signs of imminent exhaustion, but it appeared his eyes were clear and he was ready. And he didn't make a fuzz over his younger brother. He knew, Pesh had felt it, what Danzig had conveyed. Pesh looked just sad, as he stood up, but walked firmly beside him. "I'm sorry."

Danzig's head turned, a soft smile playing on his lips, exaggerating the wrinkles on his ancient face, which Pesh would still need to get used to, seeing it was his preferred look these days, hiding his divinity carefully.

And Danzig knew, it was hard for Pesh, waking up in a world he did no longer recognize. And he fared well under the shock he had been through. He deserved credit and a gentle hand to steer him and help him adjust in time. "It's alright."

The group made a swift way back to the shop, happy to leave the cursed weather outside for today. But matters still needed attention, so after everyone with the need to change into something dry had done so, they got comfy in the living space, after having laid out a plan to determine their route and future actions and preparations.

Everyone felt the strain and rested as best as they could for the short duration of time, they'd been given.

But Danzig soon insisted, for Devon's sake, Pesh should swap with her and also rest. He saw it was tiring for Pesh all the same to keep his form stable any longer. They were together all the time from now on, and Pesh didn't have to force it. They could see and talk whenever they wanted too. And Pesh could hear his brothers voice clearly, even as he dissolved and went back into Devon's head. It was a comfort he had ached for so long. He could hear and see. And with that he also fell into a state of sleep, but one he'd finally wake up from, always and deliberately.

Danzig had watched over Devon for a while, trying figure out if anything was out of order, but Pesh's fight didn't leave any mark or trace on her, which was comforting. And it did confirm, that Pesh had remained in control in the fight, not letting harm get to her but taking it all in her stead. His brother had always held more love the human race than his own. Who would have thought, he'd be proved right in such a form?

Vergil waved Danzig over, as he came back from upstairs, locking eyes with him as he leaned in to ask the question of questions for him, that had been burning in his insides. "Is it ready? Did you succeed or was your departure a hindrance – don't give me that look, I do know it was necessary. But still..."

Danzig instantly knew, what Vergil was referring too, for the same thing had crossed his busy mind, since he learned of the random attacks. A sly smile on his face, he conspiratorially whispered back at the blue twin: "It was, before I so hastily departed. My apologies, Vergil. But it's ready whenever you see it fit to go."

"I say, we go now and take them all with us. It would be the perfect headquarters for us. Not to mention the extensive library and storage space. Bedrooms for each of them. We'd be able to haul us in for decades, if necessary."

Danzig nodded at Vergil, who nervously, and very uncanny for the blue twin, rubbed his hands. "Dante will object, I fear though."

Danzig seated himself on the armrest, seeing how Vergil had his hands on his lap, fingers itchy at the thought of having to convince Dante to leave Devil May Cry for the time being. The older man nudged Vergil playfully in the arm, to make him stop with the antics unbecoming of him. "He will see reason. As much as he might try to not want to. Have some faith in him, my boy."

Vergil only grunted. "If you say so. But not tonight. Let's wait til everyone has rested. I think votes will be easier to get in the morning, rather than when everyone's tired already."

And cue Dante to let out a loud snore, having fallen asleep on the couch next to Nero, who once more switched channels, but too looked tired with his droopy eyes. They were sure he would follow Dante soon.

"You get my point." Vergil gestured at Dante's sunken form with a sneer. Danzig laughed. "Let him rest. I agree."

Everyone had already determined, the hybrid needed a good rest after all. He had been awake for days and it just occurred to them, the moment they settled on forming a patrol to sweep the city and watch out, so an attack, like the one at Love Planet, didn't occur twice. And the riders had volunteered on the spot, seeing Dante's reddened eyes and hearty yawns, he couldn't hide any longer.

And they all agreed, the stretch for him wasn't even necessary. They were many and would do shifts. Lady and Trish were informed immediately about the ongoing events and stepped up to take the next shift. Nero and Vergil would go after that, letting Dante get at least one day and a half to rest. And also, to have constantly someone at home to keep Devon company, who had been put to bed and also get a full night of sleep, or more, in Nero's room. Pesh had retreated also, after having shared a small and private conversation on the bed with Danzig. They both still couldn't believe their sheer luck. Or fate. But angels didn't believe in fate. At least not for themselves for it was a tricky thing and only granted to humans.

* * *

Devon woke with a start, gasping for air as if she'd just came back from a dark murky depth, a dive too long for her staggering lungs to hold in air.

In the dim light of a rising sun seeping through dark curtains, her hands grabbed the duvet, that she was laying under.

A bed.

Devon sat up, wiping over her face, trying to piece the moments back together to form a coherent string of what had happened. She did come up only with the scene outside, where Pesh swapped with her.

After that it went hazy. But she heard echoes of a fight, sounds that had reached her in her slumber, but didn't know if had been a bad dream or reality.

And that very reality hit her soon, when her fingers on her face let her remember the hole, that had been left not many days ago.

Devon huffed and fell back into the cushions. It all had seemed like a damn dream, or rather nightmare, her brain though slowly redirected her initial feeling. It was ll still very real. But it felt like it had happened ages ago, like something you spied through a molded mirror. Fuzzy. Not yourself, but happen to someone else.

"Yikes..." It was all her dried and shrivel up vocal chords managed, though it came out as nothing but a croaky noise.

In her thoughts, she called for Pesh, but adding to her befuddlement, he stayed silent.

And the silence was worse, than the thought of it all being real. Knowing he'd be there from now on, whenever, had been soothing for her. And if he wasn't there? What had happened?

Devon cleared her throat, coughing a few times until she figured, she might need some water to get her voice going. She stood up onto shaky feet, the heavy sleep proved to have a thorough hold on her, but with every move, every stretch of fingers and toes, every move of getting dressed in fresh clothes, life returned to her body.

Her vision cleared, metaphorical and physically until she was felt safe to wander out of the room and into the bathroom. Not a noise and not a soul around.

Devon pursed her lips, almost running into the door frame of the bathroom door, still missing the depth of vision to a staggering degree. "Dammit..."

Devon gave the frame a good slap, hard enough to make her palm sting. But it did the trick, she felt better and the pain pulled her even more into the here and now. As did her mirror image.

Devon combed her messy hair with her fingers, seeing the gaping hole and the scarred tissue, making it all too real again. Trying not to focus on that too much, she slapped cold water into her face and located her toothbrush, which she had bought together with Nero.

The memories rushed in at that. Dante. Nero. The demon hybrids. The angels. It was all real. Her breath hitched and she swallowed the toothpaste almost whole.

Devon coughed out loudly, as she threatened to choke on that way too minty toothpaste, burning in the back of her throat and down her esophagus. Devon spat it out, still coughing wildly, hitting her chest with her flat palm to make it all come out.

All right, that was enough brushing for the time being, tears welling up in her eye to the strain her lung just endured.

Devon grabbed onto the sink until the coughing fit subsided, mentally screaming for Pesh, who still didn't answer. She splashed some water into her reddened face, washing the tears away and the rest of the toothpaste on her chin.

Locating a towel was easy enough, thankfully. And there was also a huge pile of dirty clothes, which she just noticed now, wiping her face in slow circles as she tiptoed over, as if it was something rude to do, and took a gander. Mud. Dirt. Tears. And blood.

Devon pressed the towel to her mouth, eye wide in shock.

She never thought it would happen, but the first thing that came to mind was not Dante, but Nero.

She hastily hung the towel back, ripping the hanger in the process, struggled to hang it once again, but it didn't work. And after a third time, which her shaky hands didn't make easier at all, she just left it discarded on the floor, feeling the scene. She felt embarrassed about to boot.

But her mind didn't think. It just made her act on the spot. On the fear, that something might have happened. And why Pesh didn't answer. Why the house was so dreadfully silent, when she woke.

With hurried baby steps, not minding the stairs and her impaired vision, she practically stumbled down the stair case, but miraculous managed to land on her own to feet instead of scraped knees.

The living room was also empty, on the bar sign illuminated the room. It was at the crack of dawn still, and the windows didn't point to the east.

Her gaze landed onto the entrance to the kitchen. Yellow light coming out of the open door and painting a light rectangle onto the floor outside, like a portal to safety.

Devon righted herself, as she heard distinctive shatter coming from there, hoping she didn't look as scared as she felt. And moving in closer, she felt stupid for it, to boot.

Dante sat on the table in all his glory and wearing a smile, that melted her fears away in an instant. The other voice, her brain had processed already, yet still hadn't arrived to her anxious expression to convert it, belonged to Nero.

Devon carefully walked inside and Dante's grin immediately faltered and froze. Still too skinny, still too pale. But he fixed that in a mere second, and it went unnoticed by the other two.

"Look, who's up." Nero greeted with waving his spatula at her staggering form, gracing her with a big grin, she felt like she didn't deserve.

it hit her unprepared, and was even more enhanced by the feeling from a minute ago, where she thought, something might have happened.

Bu the stood there, in a worn down pair of blue skinny jeans, perfectly fitted for him and a washed out gray sweater jacket with rolled up sleeves, and a black plain shirt under it.

"Morning, sleepy head. Here sit." Dante offered her his warm chair and seated himself opposite of her. Why he did that and if he was even that thoughtful, she couldn't answer, nor nearly process. She was till too befuddled, that whatever seemingly too real scenario her silly brain had conjured up, didn't even remotely coincide with the picture upon walking in.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Dante commented warily, gesturing at her distraught expression.

Devon didn't even realize her mouth was slightly open, and snapped it shut. "Just trying to come awake."

Nero swaggered over, cup in hand and placed it right in front of her with that intolerable smile. "That might help." Not intolerable per say, but for her half sleepy form it was. Too bright. Too handsome to look at.

When and where and why and how did he get such a good cheerfulness that early in the morning anyway? The last time she checked, he had been broody and reserved.

Nonetheless, Devon accepted, easing herself into the situation, and sniffed the steaming coffee making the roof of her mouth and back of her mouth tighten and the nerves tingle at first sip. Devon pulled a face, making Dante chuckle at her.

She eyed him over the rim, as he sat there with hands behind his head, lounging with seemingly not a care in the world. She remembered the incidents slowly and it was such a stark contrast to what she recalled. Nero trashing the room. Dante looking after him. Vergil and his warning. The riders and the older angel, Pesh's brother. The strain between them, which she could feel, even when no one voiced it out directly.

"You've been sleeping for three days straight." Dante told her out of the blue, and Devon had the feeling that yet again, he somehow could read her like an open book. But it did explain, why she had felt so out of it until now.

Devon gave him an enlightened "Ooh..."

"We thought you could use some rest, so we didn't wake you." Nero clarified the matter further more from his spot at the stove, flipping what looked like pancakes.

Devon's mind screeched to a halt. Pancakes. And that Nero noticed too, seeing her mind literally gallop off into the direction of food. "You hungry?" As if he needed to ask. That was all her look was telling him and he snickered, not needing any further clarification and piled some of the already finished pancakes onto a different plate.

Devon's mind dished out one word, taking up all the space before her inner eye like a damn billboard, blinking like the shop sign outside: cute.

"What happened to first come, first serve?" Dante objected, but not at all serious.

Nero sighed at him, as he came to deliver the plate and offer a fork at her bedazzled form, which he didn't see, because he prepared mentally to give Dante an earful.

"Ladies first, isn't that what you always say?" Nero flared his nostrils, when Dante cocked his brows at him with acting clueless. "But if you insist on being a lady..."

"I don't..."

They thoroughly enjoyed their banter.

"Then take it like a man. And if you didn't notice, I'm finished anyway."

Devon tried to pry the fork from Nero's involuntarily firm hold, until he noticed her fingers prodding at his. "Oh, sorry." He smiled sheepishly, but his expression changed back to firm and unperturbed as he gazed back at Dante.

The older hunter remained silent, but his sly grin and mischievous eyes told Nero everything he need to know. He was just trying to tick him off.

Nero focused back on serving breakfast, handing Dante juice and syrup, the duster for sugar and more silverware. The older man willingly arranged the table from his seated spot, to lazy to stand up. He rattled the carton of juice to get Devon's attention, who sat there waiting politely for Nero. Devon nodded her consent and Dante poured her a full glass, before he pilled the rest into his and Nero's glass equally.

Nero, while gathering fruit and bread, toppings, jam and boiled eggs, noticed her reluctance. "Come on, eat. You don't have to wait." He was mindful to her, but bristled at Dante, who could have prepared the table beforehand, if he hadn't been inclined to just sit there and watch Nero cook.

Yet, his good mood didn't waver at all. And he'd be damned, if he'd let it. It was looking glum enough, so he would do his best to keep up an expedient nice air around the household. And he expected Dante to help him with that.

And Pesh's words rang in his ears all the time. To look out for her. She was his host, his sole means to be with his brother. To have something to hold on to. And Devon didn't deserve to suffer under any of the circumstances, for she stumbled into this mess at random and not by choice.

And if the angel inside her could literally turn his soul inside out and risk the danger willingly, the least they could do was to listen to him and look after her fragile human body.

Nero observed satisfied, how Devon reluctant at first, ate with a dreamy expression on her face. And when he sat down next to Dante, she was one pancake ahead of them, bu the pace Dante started to wold down, he'd be outpacing them both. Nero didn't mind, that what he had cooked for, for the food to be eaten.

Devon went for her second pancake, with Dante and Nero urging her on. But before she took another bite, she twirled the fork around on her plate, the questions slowly resurfacing and burning in her gut.

"Where is everyone? Did something happen?"

Both men exchanged a pointy look, not like being caught off guard, but along the lines of: there you go.

Dante shifted around in his seat, uncomfortably so, but Devon didn't perceive his shuffling as how he was searching for where to begin.

"I saw the bloodied clothes in the bathroom."

Nero let his fork sink and chewed meticulously, before he finally replied. "Oh, those are mine. Nothing serious. Besides...," he wiped his mouth and swallowed, "...a few scratches." As if to prove his point, he showed her his lower arm, twisting and turning for her to see the skin intact and unblemished. He himself hadn't even noticed amidst the fight, that he had a few cuts and bruises. His heeling factor was as good as ever, so it had healed as soon as the battle had been over.

"I don't see anything." Devon looked confused at nothing but pale skin, to which Nero raised his brows. "Exactly."

He grinned at her and Devon couldn't help but smile back. He seemed just fine. And it was soothing to know, his supernatural side wouldn't let anything happen to him. "So, there was a fight...?"

Dante had watched their small exchange patiently and with a dreamy expression,before Devon roused him from his state. "Yes, there was." He put two more pancakes on his plate, drenching them in syrup, before he spoke in between bites. "Well, this time is as good as any. Maybe it is exactly the right time to fill you in."

And their story lasted throughout the whole breakfast, recapping the events from Johnny's call to now.

Dante did most of the talking, with lots of chewing and grinning, and Nero threw in his two cents once in a while, not really feeling up to it to explain every excruciating detail or give away everything he had felt and thought throughout.

Though Devon knew, they did try to keep it on a lighter note, the graveness behind it all couldn't be played down.

Also Pesh was still there, but apparently needed some time to put himself back together after the fight.

"A siren." Devon felt as if they were pulling her leg, but Dante and his sober face, made it real. "Yes. He isn't allowed to sing within the compound, though." He said it like it was a completely self-evident and sane rule to have around one's house.

Devon bit her lip, one second away from asking, what he might do, if they'd let him. And it was only stopped by Nero being awkwardly quiet and avoiding the siren topic altogether, with scratching his neck in a nervous fashion.

"And about Pesh, I didn't know." Devon excused her lack of knowledge, for the angel didn't even let one word slide, he might get hurt. Not even after the car crash.

"How would you? He didn't seem to happy about it either, and it was Danzig who eventually spilled." Dante tried to calm her guilty feeling and douse it from the beginning.

"I wonder why."

"That, you can ask him yourself." Dante didn't see reason in making assumptions and speculate over his state. Maybe it was just a moment of hurt pride and sulking. He wanted to appear stronger and invulnerable, when it clearly wasn't the case. A dumb trait, he could pinpoint easily, like a candle in the dark, having dealt with that kind of idiocy, though kind of endearing, since Nero's arrival.

"He isn't answering me. He was silent the whole time. I don't know, if he's still there. You don't think...?" Devon couldn't bring herself to voice out he fear, he might have left. Or worse, disappeared. But this injured soul thing was disturbing, something she struggled to comprehend. On the other hand, she had never believed it to be this way. This real. Of course, people always talked about having a soul, but for her it was more a figure of speech than actual fact.

"No, I don't think, anything had happened while you slept." Dante once assured her, taking her hand in his two much bigger hands over the table. "Don't worry. He'll show up sooner or later."

"Well, he was hurt. And he also said, it could heal. Maybe he is just healing at the moment. Maybe he too needs sleep." Nero provided his own theory and it wasn't half bad either. Dante and Devon both nodded at him, with Dante speaking: "Might be the case."

"He was furious. And did charge ahead, when it had been better to stay behind."

"Which you did this time. And I'm not getting around to say, that I was pleased."

"Well, with the elephant out of the room, I thought it was the right thing to do. Besides, there were plenty for all of us." He tapped his bringer, meaning the truth about his trigger. Devon didn't catch on, just looked to and fro in confusion, which no one went to clarify.

Dante quickly dissolved it and veered away from that. "The riders were pleased with you, too."

"That, too." Nero chuckled, satisfied with himself for once. And happy, that Dante wasn't ever one to hold a grudge, knowing Nero didn't mean ill by it. Just ashamed, which he also should have known better in retrospect, when dealing with Dante. If he couldn't trust Dante with it, then sure the world was about to end.

"Oh, you're in looove!" Dante teased his protege and his unhealthy awe of the Nephilim whenever they just so much as walked by, though Nero assumed he had been sneaky about it. Well, apparently not. Dante was a perceptive bastard. He shouldn't even wonder, he did eventually notice. But he felt embarrassed still. "I am not in love, you moron." He swatted the L-word away, as if it was a pesky fly.

But Devon quickly came to support him. "But, have you seen them? They are awesome!"

Nero turned towards Devon, with gleaming eyes. "I know, right?"

Dante rolled his eyes, dramatically reaching for his heart. "What about me, hey?"

"Would you please for once share the spotlight?" Nero let out a frustrated groan.

"I do share. Not just that." He winked at Devon, who looked at him abashed, before dropping her gaze.

"Well, at least now Devon knows how you tick and can steer clear of that."

"I do?"

"You better. He's worse. And an attention hog." Nero chuckled behind his hand as Dante's face fell dramatically.

"That says the right person. I can't do anything about anyway. People come on to me. Like moths to the flame." He said with arms wide as if to let them revel in his presence.

"More like flies to the stink." Nero couldn't hide his laughter anymore, bending over. God, he missed a good laugh since it all started.

"And he laughs at his own jokes. Not a very admirable characteristic either." Dante mocked and pointed at Nero, who wiped tears from the corner of his eyes. "You have to admit, you called it."

Dante crossed his arms over his chest, chewing on the inside of his cheek, his most stern look on his face, until Devon believed he'd walk over and smack Nero in the face.

But he didn't hold out long with his act. "I did." He shrugged at them and chuckled to himself.

"Well, I hope you know what you're getting yourself into." His face became slightly solemn as he said it in regards of the way they treated each other, and Devon realized, she actually didn't.

It was still hard t keep track, not getting confused and keep a straight face altogether, while listening and learning of all these incredible, frightening things the last few days. Before it looked sunny and bright, like that day Nero and her went to that huge shopping market just outside the old stone confinements of the city. But, looming in the back f her mind, like the ever present rain clouds over their heads, was that she felt like sinking, struggling still, but the inevitable end would come.

"It's not like I could anywhere. Or he would let me, after he found out your friend is his brother."

"We won't let you go anywhere. But more importantly,..." Dante knelt down I front of her chair, cupping her face firmly in his hands, so she had no where to look but his face,"...remember, I found you and we decided you could stay even before we knew that." Maybe it had been fate, maybe it been the angel pulling Dante in. To him it only counted, that it had felt like the right thing to do. That many things happened and some fell into place, was just added bonus or an obstacle to take. And about those he knew plenty to not get his chaps in a twist, yet. They all had their package to carry, but Dante was sure that joint effort always made it lighter and easier to figure things out.

He made her nod to his words with his big hands, not letting go until it had tiem to sink in. "It doesn't matter. It didn't matter before. It was you, we wanted to help."

Her eye strayed past Dante, and fell onto Nero who slouched in his chair, looking like he paid no attention. But Devon saw the brief flitting of doubt and pity on his face, yet Dante's voice pulled her focus back to him.

"Got it?"

Devon nodded firmly by herself, not needing his hands to do it for her. "Got it."

Dante let go and stood up and settled in his earlier spot, looking at Nero whop tried to hide his yawn behind his hand. "I got the phone, kid. Get some sleep."

And there was nothing more Nero wished for. And he could sleep in his own bed, which made him grateful. That couch was going to murder, if he had to use it another night. The thing was out for his back for sure. He rubbed his eyes, pondering for a moment.

"Hey, about him." He motioned awkwardly at her overall form. Devon inclined her head with a questioning look. Nero popped his lips once, feeling silly. "Uh, he'll be fine. He just needs some rest, you know?"

He was actively trying to cheer her up, at least that was the message Dante got. He refrained from sneering at Nero, who was fidgety. "And, if he pops back up, or whatever tell him, thanks."

What...?

"I know he risked a lot, when he came to help, when we both were attacked. And I didn't know about this whole thing about his soul. You know, what we told you earlier." Nero expression was once again a mix of pity and confusion. He felt sorry for the angel, who was locked and a shadow of his former self and he didn't understand why he bothered so much in the first place.

Devon just looked dumbfounded. She had been the one to plead for Nero's life, begging Pesh to save him, though he was reluctant at first and such a show off later. She possibly couldn't tell him that, could she? The way she had to admit, she was attracted to the white haired hybrid with the demon arm staggered her. She wouldn't give it away. And he certainly seemed like he had much more to chew on, than she knew.

"Well, he was being stupid. Just tell him, to watch out next time." Nero said it with a firmer voice than before, while he fiddled absentmindedly with his fraying pocket rims on his jeans, before his human hands clutched his bringer and circled the wrist. The warmth coming from it somehow soothed him. And Dante read every single sign, Nero was nervous.

Devon didn't notice, just saw he was fidgety, but stacked that info as normal Nero behavior into the shelf in her brain, where she tried to store and record every single info about every person, as best as she could. It was hard enough to remember the events in order by hearsay, so the least she wanted to was to not confuse the individuals associated with them on top of that.

"Next time?" Nero tensed even more, when she repeated his words, he didn't even know he said.

"Well, I'm sure you can't keep him confined forever."

"Which I wouldn't." Devon's voice hardened in response to Nero's choice of words. Confinement was the last thing on her mind. And she hoped Pesh knew this.

"Why did you let him out in the first place?" The proverbial ice was thinning and melting under Nero's slight accusation and they way he practically hurled it at her out of of the blue.

"Because he asked. I didn't know, there would be a fight. And I didn't know, it would have any effect on him either. Just like you said. I believe we both thought him strong. Invincible even." Devon raised her voice by a fraction to match Nero's.

Dante watched the exchange from the sidelines, still trying to find the moment where it suddenly went sour. Nero was talking without thinking and Devon stubbornly held his gaze until he gave in.

Nero rubbed his face and exhaled roughly. "Right." Why was he so anxious? Because he had seen what did happen if he went overboard, to his host? That he burned her life, shortening the fuse everytime he had to come out. He had it rather, Pesh didn't.

"Tell him, he is an idiot, too." Pesh suddenly piped up in her head. He could feel the discomfort Devon felt and it pressured her. Which he didn't like either. The discussion for not for to have on his behalf. And the young hybrid pissed him off, even if he showed some kind of twisted concern. For her, not for the angel. Pesh could live with it, as long as he was being reasonable. And being called stupid was nothing short of rude.

Devon heard Pesh's voice loud and clear as if he was standing next to her, which made her turn her fast to either side to verify if he was there.

Dante and Nero perked up at her. "What's wrong," they barked in unison, senses alerted and high.

Devon looked delighted, enough for of them to swiftly figure out what had happened, though. "It's him." She confirmed their assumption, and they could see how she eased back into the seat. "He's fine."

Nero found that to be his cue to finally clear the table. "Good for him."

Dante eyed Nero amused and stood up, this time helping with his self appointed task.

"He says Hi." Devon forwarded the message to both of them, earning herself a lazy wave by Dante and an affirmative grunt from Nero.

"Where's Danzig?"

And both of them knew, she spoke for Pesh now.

"He's visiting his hideout with the riders. They'll be back, soon." Dante answered nonchalantly while retrieving the plates and cutlery to pass them to Nero, who positioned himself at the dishwasher, to sort the tableware in.

Devon watched them as they worked around the kitchen like a clockwork, well attuned with each other, as they put everything back into place, not bumping or even hindering one another. It was cute to watch both almost equally tall men act so delicate and considerate, leaving enough room to dance around one another effortlessly. It seemed like only a few minutes until the kitchen was back in it's cleaned up state, with Nero tending to the stove, while Dante had a rag to wipe the counters around him.

It was buzzing in Devon's mind, that both of them where the most notorious demon hunters and here they just did like everyone would normally do, keeping their kitchen clean like your everyday, average person.

Inside her, Pesh cajoled, Devon assumed he was thinking something funny, but what came next made her nearly fall off her chair. "You're staring at him." They both knew, who he was talking about.

"I am not." She replied loudly, making both hybrids turn towards her with raised brows. Devon waved her hand. "Don't mind me. Sorry." And she inwardly cursed at Pesh, for making her embarrass herself. Her cheeks were flushed, that much she could tell already. "I can see through your sight." Pesh reminded her slyly and Devon quickly searched for something to latch on, her own hands. She wanted to give herself the finger, so Pesh could see the rude gesture, but reminded herself, it would certainly be lost on Pesh, for he most likely didn't know the meaning behind it.

Dante chuckled, Nero pulled a face, as if eating eating sour grapes. "Well. I'm off to catch some shuteye." He looked at Dante. "Wake me, if anything happens. Or if our shift is on."

"No worries." He grinned obscenely, making Nero worry, until he caught on. "No no no. You don't tell Vergil to wake me. I like my face intact."

"Only if you would sleep in, I guess." Dante tapped his temple as he considered the plea.

"Then be a buddy for once and wake me, before I do that." Nero slapped him playfully on the arm and announced his retreat with it. "Later." He said to no one in particular, but meant Devon, who sat at the table, chewing on her thump, deep in thought and...was her face red?

Nero quickly disregarded it and shoved the thought of anything, that threatened to come to mind away, which included the angel and the conversation they might held at this moment. He was tired and beat. And that damn nagging in his insides didn't go away, either. So he would just ignore it as best as he could. His drowsy state would help to get him over that, hopefully.


	16. Call to Hearts

Call to Hearts

* * *

"The window is still broken." Devon remarked with a loopsided grin over her mug at Dante, who had taken a seat opposite her with a fresh coffee himself and the newspaper, he had retrieved for Vergil, who yet hadn't come down from upstairs. Maybe he was enjoying his alone time, since the riders had went with Danzig.

"Believe me, I noticed."

"Aren't you gonna fix it? It's gonna be pretty chill inside. In fact, it already is." And to prove her point, Devon shivered and rubbed her arms.

"That door had been broken one time too many, I'm kind of tired of fixing it. It's actually like a bad luck charm, we rather should get rid of it and get a new one."

His comment stood in the room like a wall of riddles and he noticed his error at the proverbial question marks floating around Devon's head. "That so?"

"Nah, I'm just joking. I like that door. But it's true. We break a lot of doors." Dante was amused by it, though he could do without the occasional demon busting in.

"Shops, actually." He shrugged and Devon went slack jawed. "You're kidding."

"I wish I was. But this," he gestured around the kitchen, with his eyes following the movement of his hand, "..is actually the third shop."

"What the hell happened? It can't be all bad luck?"

"It comes with the job description." The voice didn't belong to Dante, though he looked like he agreed with it. Devon's head whipped around to the see the other twin stand in the door, a smirk on his lips and a nod towards his brother, before he walked in. Devon once more noted the bare feet. So, it was habitual.

Vergil opened the fridge, diving into the huge construction and after a few clings and clanks, he found, what he was looking for.

Devon felt like in a deja vu, but quickly remembered the scene indeed had occurred one time already, when she peeked at Vergil and his bowl of fruit salad, Nero must have prepared beforehand for him. She marked it down as normal occurrence, too.

"That doesn't sound remotely unsettling," she remarked sarcastically with observing Vergil, who was to busy to answer.

Dante took over. "Don't worry, as long as any of us is here, nothing's gonna happen, except for the occasional broken door."

"I see. Then I'll take the broken doors over anything, every time. Now, I get it. Broken doors are good, because nothing bad happened, instead of that." Devon beamed at them, satisfied with her own explanation.

Vergil chuckled with his mouth full, chewed and swallowed, aware of how Devon watched him, but letting in slide and instead went with the humor his brother had set up. "They are still inconvenient, though."

"Don't you have anything to fix it? Like a piece of wood or something? At least temporarily?" Dante cocked his head, eyes turned towards the ceiling, indicating he was trying to come up with a solution to not have the only human around to freeze to death.

"We do have a lot of pizza boxes." Vergil commented, while he sneered at Dante, who mocked back by mimicking is brother in a more sardonic version.

Devon slapped her forehead at Vergil's surprising suggestion. Surprising for Dante at least, who now eyed his brother mildly concerned. Vergil responded with forking more fruit chunks into his mouth, looking like asking him 'Am I not allowed to talk or why are you gawking?'

Dante refrained from the jab he had in mind and leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head, while Vergil leaned casually against the counter, like he usually did, because he probably had been sitting the entire time, brooding over his manuscripts and whatnot and wanted to stretch a bit and eat something fresh to get that smell of molded paper and dust out of his system.

It all went completely over Devon's head. Dante wondering what was wrong with his brother and Vergil wondering, why Dante acted like he did something out of the ordinary.

Devon twiddled her fingers and watched them circle around each other before looking back up."Could work. Tape?"

Vergil yet again staggered Dante with his nonchalant friendliness, as he opened a drawer next to his left, grabbing the industrial tape blindly and tossing it at her. Too late, he figured his faux pas. She couldn't be that good already and catch it with missing her in depth sight.

Dante threw him a warning look, catching it right before it could smash into her forehead. Devon's reaction was so poor, she didn't even flinch, even more evidence for her lacking sight. "Alright. Rule number one, no throwing stuff at Dev."

Vergil coughed and cleared his throat. "Duly noted." Barely audible, with all the strawberries, pineapples and what not in his mouth.

"I would have caught it."

"If you really wanna try that, you might try it with something, that wouldn't crack your forehead." Dante twirled the heavy roll of tape around his index finger like a hula hoop, realizing Devon wasn't that uncomfortable with her state any longer, though she still fixed her hair in a fashion, which allowed it to hide the damaged side.

Devon straightened her hand over said part of hair, because Dante had his gaze solely fixed on what felt like that exact spot of her empty socket. Devon then cleared her throat before holding her hand out, so he could give the tape to her.

Vergil perked up at their exchange, interested in her next course of action, when Dante taunted her with twirling the tape relentlessly out of reach instead of simply passing it over, while grinning.

"Focus. He wants you to take it from him." Pesh was wide awake inside her head, his own gaze fixed on it. "Maybe I can help you."

Devon barely nodded, reading Dante's expression to come and get it with mild amusement, not minding to clarify her nod as a response to Pesh. She didn't even know, if he could see or feel it. But both twins actually caught on. The presence inside was stronger than ever, it was as if they could feel him, like a mostly inaudible whisper, a wisp of golden smoke, highlighted from behind. It shone through the fabric of her body and hit their inner eye like a disoriented and weak beam, but it was there, nonetheless.

"No changing." Dante warned with a chuckle, letting Devon know, he was aware of their inner exchange to some extent. "That would be cheating."

Inside her head, Devon heard Pesh scoff mildly. "As if."

Devon didn't know, what to do or what not. She relied solely on Pesh to tell her. And he only advised her to think of it, of how she'd grab the tape from his finger, and to focus on it with her gaze. Devon did, with Vergil and Dante intently watching her muscles tense, her face blank, and how her fists clenched on the table.

Pesh focused too, trying to see through her eye, without that infuriating haze between them. And then he moved, trying to make her arm move without actually overtaking and showing up.

Devon's hand shot forward, but it went into empty space with Dante quickly responding by pulling away and holding his arm over his head. She didn't even graze it. But the aim, he noticed astounded, had been spot on.

"Again." He said, with both assuming their initial position, fixing each other with narrowed eyes. Devon gritted her teeth. She heard Pesh chuckle, he was enjoying this little game.

Devon's eyes widened, as soon as her fingers grazed Dante's hand on the second attempt, and the hunter smirked. That had been very fast. Inhumanly fast. He looked for any sign of the angel, but all he could see was her, no glow, nothing. Pesh purely reacted from the inside, pulling invisible strings, like a marionette player.

Vergil observed with growing interest, seeing too, how she had surpassed human speed. That must have actually hurt. But other than her squaring her jaw and shaking and stretching her arms briefly, he did not see any discomfort.

Devon, ignoring both twins eyes, in favor of still trying to focus on Pesh and the tape alone, rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck a few times. Reacting with Pesh's power felt like one day old muscle ache.

"One more." Pesh said and Devon repeated the words to Dante in the same demanding fashion, egged on and fired up, that it looked like they could actually make it work and succeed, though Devon knew, it was something her body wouldn't be able to hold out long. It was tiring. But maybe, they could indeed work on that.

Dante held the item in his firm grip, the twirling and taunting had stopped, his face was as concentrated as her own. He was now all business, showing his own inhuman strength and speed with determination. They all had witnessed Pesh before and his speed, which seemed to be his biggest and most distinctive trait. Dante was up to the challenge.

With Dante and his ability on full display and focused, it became slightly harder, but Pesh, too, welcomed the challenge, the curious hybrid presented to him.

Pesh trained his eyes on the blue glowing orbs outside, feeling the sting and burn and it provided him with a good portion of determination. He took a few seconds longer, letting Devon rest and the slight sting wear off, because his next move would be more powerful. He told her to let loose, not tense her muscles or the harder it would become, if she tried to act with him and the timing was off. He would do this with her body and she had to clear her head out.

At first it seemed counterproductive, when Pesh told her to think of something entirely else, but she could feel his warmth spread through her veins and it latched onto every fiber. She knew, he was close to transform, and tried to keep it steady, swirling under her skin, like warm water melting the thin ice, but not breaking it, hollowing it out hair by hair until he had filled her up with his power. Devon didn't know, why, but it seemed like a crucial thing to all of them, that he'd remain inside, but also could control her.

Pesh now viewed Dante through the scarred black hole, he could almost see the angel eye, peeking through the dark and the strand of hair at him and he swore for a mere second he saw a flash of yellow, too.

Dante reacted on pure instinct now, letting his demon blood guide his actions, as he once more pulled away in a flash of red in front Devon's own widened eye.

Pesh had focused only on one movement, that of her hand. And when Dante wiggled his fingers, he knew his hand was empty. The roll of tape bounced off the table, for Pesh had managed to hook one of her fingers through it, but his control was still far from perfect.

"Huh." Dante watched Vergil pick up the tape from the floor, where it had rolled along to fall over at his naked feet.

"Very good." He commented at a smug grinning Devon, who took it with a shaky hand. Her muscles were sore now, but it wasn't that bad actually.

Pesh cheered inside her head: "We did it." To which Devon could only think, it was him, who did it. Pesh chuckled. "Not at all. If you wouldn't have trusted me and let go, I wouldn't have been able to. I'm sorry. I guess, it hurt."

Devon shook her head, speaking aloud and startling both twins. "It's fine. Stings a little." But Pesh wouldn't have that, and in a whiff, the pain was gone. "There. All better."

The twins could actually see the perks of it, if they manged to work in sync like that. He wouldn't get hurt, and if she would, he could heal her. Though, Devon worried, that if she would get sore and tired this easily and feel it, how bad a pain it must be, if he was supposed to fight with her body. Healing or not, the wounds would still be painful. And that thought was scaring her, hoping it would never have come to this.

"You okay?" Dante reached over the table to grasp her shaky hands and put the roll of plastic aside for now. Her skin was burning, from what he assumed was the angel's power. It felt like the first time, when Vergil had brought her back after the very first incident, when they thought she had caught a feverish sickness, and then learned the angel had revived and healed her.

"Yeah. I guess, I am." Though she didn't let go at first, enjoying the gentle hands kneading life into hers. And Pesh inside her hummed at the contact. Dante exuded a strange sense of safety, both had quite missed.

Dante felt the skin cool under his touch, which was indicating the angel's spell radiating through her, wore off and he had retreated once more, as Devon reluctantly pulled out of his grasp to gather her hands in her lap, but still viewing Dante with a shy smile and heated cheeks. It was difficult to get used to his touchy-feel character and it made her blush, which felt so wrong on all accounts, even more when she heard Pesh chuckle inside her fuzzy head. "First Nero and now you're getting flustered by him. You humans are cute, and easily aggravated."

Devon could only agree, accepting defeat. But on the other hand, who could blame her? Dante was the first to ever take notice, who offered her shelter and acted so nice, it was embarrassing. Also, he was gorgeous. Which she told Pesh all with her thoughts, running at light speed and hard for him to understand. But Nero was another level still. And they both were aware of it. And her heart started pounding at that thought, she hadn't allowed herself to think deliberate about it, until now. Yet, who was she fooling? She was falling for that one. Not for the twins, who seemed out of everyone's league and surreal at times, Vergil over the more than Dante, who had this more earthy and human feeling. No, she was falling for Nero, head over heels, with no chance of stopping it. And she couldn't help it, that he was also out of her league either, yet her heart had decided to still peer down that road. Damn her traitorous heart.

She was grateful, when Vergil interrupted the bonding over the table and the thoughts in her head with his gruff voice. "I advise you to work on that." He motioned at her overall form, meaning the link with Pesh no doubt.

Devon scratched her nose in a nervous fashion, something very familiar to both of the twins, a habit Nero constantly flashed when being embarrassed. Did she pick it up from him?

"Easier said, than done."

Vergil assessed her with a hint of a smile. "Isn't it always?"

To that, no one had a comment and he just nodded at her, before he put his empty bowl into the sink, ready to leave. Before he reached the door, he turned to Dante. And if Dante wouldn't have known Vergil, the fact he could smell something close to agitation coming off him, he wouldn't have believed it. "We need to talk, as soon as Danzig is back."

Dante opened his mouth, in order to ask, what this was about all of a sudden, but Vergil didn't give him the opportunity. Infuriating as it was, he just could watch him disappear in a flash, meaning he would only talk on his terms when he saw fit and with Danzig there. Dante pulled an unnerved face.

"He tends to do this a lot, doesn't he?" Devon commented on Vergil's composed exit and Dante's willingness to simply tolerate it.

"I got used to it." Dante fixed his face to not look as annoyed as he felt.

Devon stretched and yawned, before they both heard her back and neck crack. Devon laughed at this, the evidence, her and Pesh had a long road ahead of them. How long it may be.

"Go, get a shower, before Nero wakes. With the house this empty and silent, it's an opportunity, you'll not get anytime soon."

Devon nodded. Best idea ever after their short, but exhausting exercise.

* * *

Nero awoke slowly after his nap. He stretched and regarded the light seeping through his closed curtains, while his fuzzy head realized, his sour mood had worn off or retreated to places far away enough to not feel it as prominent as he had this morning. He actually felt refreshed after his power nap of some sorts. His bringer hummed content at his side, too, which meant, everything was fine and in order, with the twins both calm and at ease no less.

He rose and cracked his shoulders, while arching his back, letting a long yawn out, followed by a content sigh. He hadn't bother to undress and had simply thrown himself onto the duvet out of frustration over everything and nothing all at once.

He recalled the morning and considered, he might talk to Devon, for he had the feeling of being harsh, but his other half told him, there was actually no need. There hadn't been a real argument and certainly Devon hadn't acted like she had been mad. And there was nothing bout it with him and her speaking their minds. He waited for his gut to answer him and there was no knot this time. Surprising, but certainly well welcomed.

He heard a few doors shut and open, a bit of far away clattering and footsteps, normal noises along the walls and floor. He pinpointed noises to the living space, kitchen and bathroom just across the hallway outside his quarter. He smelled soap from steamy air from under the crack of his door.

Nero curiously walked outside, and in that moment, there was more clatter, yet he knew both twins weren't in there, so he deducted it to be Devon. Her muffled voice, yelling 'shit' confirmed it and he smiled stupidly at her exclaim, before he went over and knocked.

"You okay in there?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine." Devon replied, convincingly so, but bit her lip and pulled a mortified expression as she regarded the mess she made. Even though, Pesh had attempted to return her body into it's tip top condition, something still was off. And her hands couldn't grab the one item she wanted, but toppled it over and everything from the shelf followed, while she stared in horror at the falling domino of tins and cans. "Dammit.." She whispered at her self, making Pesh inside worry, to which she said: "Calm down."

"I am calm." Nero responded through the door, refraining from 'for a change', because it wouldn't have been funny, at least not to her or so he guessed. Instead he leaned against the door, slightly confused.

"I wasn't talking to you. Sorry."

"Oh. Uh, need some help?"

She was making a habit of answering Pesh like a telephone call, which was confusing at best. Nero would never get used to that, or so he thought. But, he knew exactly, how it was to have someone inside your head, who didn't belong there.

Inside the bathroom, Devon threw the door a mortified look. "You can't just ask a woman in the bathroom, through the door, if she needs some help!"

Nero hopped back from the door, as if he had been burned. In his mind, it had been a perfectly fine question, and not at all creepy. His face flushed three shades of crimson. He harshly slapped his forehead in addition to remind himself of how awkwardly idiotic he was sometimes. "Ouch." And it hurt too much to not wince and groan. "I mean, you're right. Sorry."

Devon rapidly gathered all spilled items to assemble them to their allotted spots, trying to piece together the sounds outside. This was getting weird and her hands were shaking more in response, but for a different reason. She would have laughed, if it hadn't been Nero to discover her involuntary clumsiness.

He stood there, too dumbfounded to move yet, and another awkward minute later, Devon opened the door, and leaned against it, as soon as she pulled it close. Nero scratched his nose, catching himself at the last moment to not ask what the hell she had been doing in there, though he noticed her hair was in slight disarray.

They silently looked at each other, and Devon cleared her throat, lowered her gaze and fiddled with her hands behind her back, hair completely obscuring her face now. How to get out of this situation? And why did he even think it a good idea to wait and ask stupid questions? Goddammit.

Devon sighed, her heart beating irritatingly fast. "I just toppled some stuff over." And spilled some things and made a generic mess. But that she kept to herself.

Nero's own head snapped up, for he too had been staring rather at her feet, than into her face. "Oh, okay, I guess. I just heard noises, when I woke. Sorry. It's just.." With all the things that happened lately, he had been worried, but his voice wouldn't say that out loud, instead he trailed off letting it hang in the air between them.

"You heard that? From in there?" Devon pointed past him, to his room and the spare door, he had hung in, so he could sleep without much disturbance.

Nero let out a nervous laugh, looking anywhere but her, as he tensed at the inquiry, which was only natural for someone, who didn't know or simply forgot, he wasn't nearly as human as them. Nero rubbed his earlobe, a sheepish grin forming on his lips. "Can't help it."

And then they both giggled. "Geez, don't be mad, but I forgot about it - you're like the twins."

It was, as if someone just had told Nero, he was the most normal person ever, the ordinary guy, with nothing strange to notice about and his eyes went wide, before he held up his devil bringer, literally bringing up the obvious. How could she forget about that?

And with him pointing it out in that fashion, they both giggled uncontrollably. "Duh." Devon motioned at his demonic arm, feeling utterly stupid. She couldn't figure out the way he looked at her. Was it disbelief? Or amusement? His expression showed various statements of it, or so it would seem.

Nero lightly shook his head and the annoying one strand out of his eyes, going so far as to blow air up, making him look adorable to Devon, and growing warmer the more the thought sunk in. Nero could be adorable.

"You going downstairs?" He asked, oblivious to her flushed face and nervous state, which Devon was glad over.

"Yep." And with her answer, they both made their way for the stairs side by side, before Nero let her descent and went after her. His stomach growled without warning and Devon turned, when he arrived yet again at her side.

"This sounds bad." She commented the obscene loud noise, as he flinched at the low grumble, that followed the first one, yet even louder.

"Tell me about it. I am starving as we speak." He rubbed his belly in a circular motion.

Well, breakfast had been four hours ago. Albeit she didn't have that trained stomach of his, or like any of them, she could eat. Devon already had a gotten a taste of their appetite, when she went out shopping with Nero and he told her befuddled face, that they wouldn't last a week with that. And she remembered it only had been a week from there to here, which was definitely weird. She could have sworn, it were already so much longer. In her heart, it stung, to know it was a reminder, that time here didn't feel neither stretched nor thinned. It just felt right and she hadn't thought about that until now.

It felt like, being home, where you didn't count the days anymore, but just were there.

"I hope the other two didn't eat all of the remaining food." As ominous as sounded, it was not far off, for Dante had been eating almost the entire time, with small pauses to let it settle. Vergil had finished his huge bowl and had sauntered off as nonchalant as he had come after that, without any indication, if he liked what he had witnessed in there or not, to which Pesh had ensured her, he was fine. And there was no bad blood or any hostility coming from him, when they had been out together. On the contrary, Vergil had been the epitome of neither caring nor bothering about Pesh's appearance in the slightest. He even had referred to him as colleague, to which Devon had enlightened him, that it meant something like partners, just not that close. Pesh had regarded that thought from every angle, and it did made sense in a way, before he stored it away, with attaching a great sympathy for Vergil to it.

When Devon made the comment, which Nero thought not unlikely to be true actually, Dante peeked out from the kitchen, greeting Nero with a dubious smile. "Why are you up? You still have a few hours."

"I was hungry."

"Figures." Dante waved them in. And Nero prayed, he didn't invite them, so they could fall prey to one of his cooking incidents. He looked too smug to not act on it. Nero sniffed the air, not bothering to hide his concerned face. "What did you do?"

"Whatever gives you the impression I did something? And judging by your tone, you also assume, it is something bad?" And he scoffed, like he knew exactly what Nero was referring to.

As soon as Nero had walked into the kitchen, with a curious Devon in tow, he felt bad. And also felt that gut wrenching feeling of fuzziness, he didn't like, because he craved for it so much sometimes.

Dante had prepared dinner for them, which was totally not expected by Nero. It wasn't anything fancy or special at all. But, Dante almost never cooked, leaving that expertise to Nero, who had much more reliant skills on being self sufficient for most of his life, on that part, than any other of them. Yet, to Nero it looked like picture perfect family dinner, stunning him into uncomfortable silence.

"I thought you might be hungry. And Devon took forever in the shower, so I was bored." Dante shrugged at them, while explaining with a way too indifferent voice, making it seem like he did nothing out of his usual way. But Nero knew better, yet disregarded it, in favor of Dante, who played it down so he wouldn't even start to make a fuzz.

Nonetheless, even Devon noticed, how a solemn sadness furrowed Nero's brows briefly, as he regarded the older man with what could only be described as gratefulness.

Devon blinked and the moment nearly passed, but still, as invisible as it was, she, or rather Pesh inside, could feel it echo throughout their souls. Love. Not the romantic or fierce kind, but a quiet, understanding, gentle burning love. It was warming her up, like sitting on a comfortable, yet old rug, in front of a small fireplace, made of cedar wood on an, other than that, excessively dark night. To Devon, this was exactly, what Dante felt like, even in all his glory and difference from the rest of all the people, he could call fourth this kind of safety and trust with so much ease. It was a gift, Pesh spelled it out inside her head. It was almost frightening.

Nero chewed on his lower lip, not entirely sure, what to say, but this was the Dante he had been drawn to since they first met. And he didn't even try hard. Or he did, and Nero never noticed or had been to busy to see through it. But here he was, reminded of why exactly he had followed the red coat. The enigma, that was a dork, a warrior and, the most unexpected thing, a friend, he could trust with his life.

"You didn't have to."

"What? I figured you'd be starving. And Devon needs to eat, too. So, sit your asses down, and eat. Before it gets cold." Dante sure as hell didn't stand in the kitchen for an hour to let it go to waste, because they were staring at him like he sprouted a second head. But of course, he would be damned, before he told them exactly that.

Devon and Nero exchanged an amused look, before doing as they were told, with Dante joining them a few moments later, ready to devour another meal.

After they settled and helped themselves to full plates of meatloaf, peas and mashed potatoes, Nero faced Dante with a veiled look of concern and something else. "Did Vergil find his salad?"

"He did. Ate it all. And left." Dante informed him between his first bites.

"Of course." Nero grunted. Vergil would never be the person to actively join them. Not that it was a surprise, but still Nero hoped, he'd someday find it in him to do so. The distance between the brothers varied each day, as it would seem, but Nero was no fool, and though he was preoccupied with his own things to mull over, he always noticed and it added to his worries. And with threats crashing in from every side, he did over the more.

And then he noticed Devon and her own way of dealing with it. And if he really gave it a second look, Pesh didn't seem so annoying, like he had told himself before. There were things, he wished for not being part of him, but in the end, they were working on the same goal and he had to go with it. And Danzig had them all in a vice like grip, he had noticed. He was behind the steering wheel, which Pesh did acknowledge, no less. Dante trusted Danzig without question. And strangely, Vergil seemed to do that, too. He wouldn't spill anything, yet was always on Danzig heel, whenever he was around, probably confiding more in the old man, than he did with any of them. Though Nero had the chance, to take a good gander inside Vergil and what he had seen, was a darkness, he'd never fully understood. Yet, he wasn't afraid of it. No darkness was endless. His heart lived, survived barely, after Fortuna, yet his inner devil wouldn't let him die, no matter how much he told himself he couldn't go on. He lived through it. And his heart did beat with steady rhythms. Like it did to the girl next to him at this moment, as he regarded her with a veiled look of concern. No one was at fault for the things that happened. Certainly Pesh wasn't and Devon's unwillingness to object to his need of freedom, threw it right back into his face. He wasn't the one to decide for anything and more importantly, Pesh did prove himself more than he had been asked to do. The only thing Nero did know, they just had to be the ones to be left standing, with whatever may come.

As Devon sat in the kitchen with Dante and Nero, Danzig's call had traveled far already and did reach the hearts of those, who were bound to follow.

* * *

Temen-ni-gru stood silent and sad as dusk eventually settled over the city of Capulet. A lone figure walked in the shadow of the huge contraption to reach it's stone footing. No one was in sight, as he sat on a pile of rubble, hands on his knees and head hanging low. He hated waiting.

From the west under the last dim light of this forlorn day, a tall figure approached, throwing a thin and long shadow ahead to announce his arrival. From every direction they slowly walked to the center of the city, meeting from where the echo of a loud heartbeat and the voice of their leader had summoned them.

Every one of the four man immediately had been on his way, traveling a long distance, sometimes faster than a human eye could see. Three days had passed since they heard it. The city lay in deep shadows between tiny, glum artificial lights, that would scare no one away in this wretched place. Not even the darkness itself.

Night had engulfed them all and the tower threw an even darker shadow below, where the four figures met at last, cloaked and hooded as tiny blacker spots in the dark. The first one was still sitting cross legged on his huge chunk of ancient stone, tapping his fingers under the heavy fabric of his tattered clothes. "Finally." His tapping stopped.

"It has been too long", the deep and pleasantly resonating voice of the tallest and hunkiest man of the four proclaimed.

Knowing there was no beast, man or creature in the close vicinity, they all shook back their hoods, revealing their brilliant faces and wild, windswept hair of long traveling, staring each other equally in the eye, with equal glowing irises.

"Too true." The smallest one remarked, before his eyes wandered around and up the skeleton tower, that was as foreign to them as a lie.

"Well, it's been long and correct me, if I'm wrong, but I don't remember this being here." The one who sat raised his voice, while pointing up at the tower.

"That's because, it wasn't here, the last time we visited, Gene." The last newcomer answered, amused about his brother, who needlessly had stated the obvious.

Gene shook his shoulder long ashen blonde hair out of his eyes and looked up. "Hey, Ash, what do you think? Is this why he called us?"

The biggest one, who looked almost like a lion with his unruly dark blonde locks that reached his waist, craned his neck as he glumly regarded the ruined structure of the tower once more. "I don't think so. Look, it's nearly dead."

"Why is it here? And what is it?" Gene couldn't believe something so huge and malicious had befallen the city.

"I can still feel it pulsing. Though, it's rather faint." Their only dark haired brother had gone to look at the thick walls, grazing his fingers and instantly pulled back, as if he had burned his hand. "Ouch." He lifted it to inspect his skin, it was intact, though it stung. He blew some air on it, before shaking it.

"Dan, please. No touching." His second brother, with the short strubbly white blonde hair looked mildly disgusted, and a little concerned, for the reaction had startled him.

"Yeah, yeah, Red. Too late for that." Dan sucked on his index finger, the next second though and without warning, he spat onto the ground, surprised by the coppery and sulfuric taste. "Bah. This tastes awful."

"You are an idiot." Red nonchalantly complimented his older brother with a sigh.

Dan grinned, while furiously rubbing his hand on his coat, wanting to get rid of whatever had apparently stained it. "Takes one to know one, idiot."

"Are you two finished?" Ash had the growl of a lion too, which was truly fitting, if he'd already decided to look like one. And it was his indicator of slowly loosing his temper. Or patience. But the three of his siblings with him there, already had agreed, it was almost nonexistent anyway.

Both referred to brothers saluted. "Yessir." Like out of one mouth. And somehow Ash couldn't shake the feeling they were mocking him. He quirked his brow at them. And trained the stare on them, that would glue every human to their very spot.

Gene sighed and finally stood up form his seated position. "One minute, and you're already on his bad side. Well done, gents." As if everyone just became aware of it, they all looked at him and his curious manner of speech, which sounded well pronounced and a bit snooty, or maybe it was because of that smug face, Gene decided to pull in addition while talking.

Dan pouted at him, before he decided to dish out a jab, everyone already knew would come from him. "What's with that fake accent?"

"It's oxford. Very sophisticated." Gene crossed his legs and leaned against his chunk of stone. Yes, he had called shotgun, because he had been here first and naturally this was his chunk all right. He was protective of it now.

"It's nonsense." Ash growled, eyeing him sharply, and Gene knew very well it meant, he should stop it at once. And never do it again. He'd see about that.

"Yes, mam." Gene tipped his head, as if he wore a cowboy hat and had now changed to a nasal, southern twang.

Ash twirled around on his heels, infuriated hair wip and all, boring his keen, glowing eyes straight into Gene's insides like a fiery lance. Gene wasn't prepared and choked on his own spit. This lion had some mighty claws too and he had ridiculous big hands. He could punch your sorry soul right out of your body, if he felt like it.

Dan sauntered over to Gene, at first rather gently patting his back to help him get his saliva out of the wrong pipe. Maybe he hit a bit too hard further on (on purpose), because Gene had gone off to have the coughing fit of his life. He wheezed and tried to swat Dan's hand away, which still patted (hit) his back hard enough, Gene thought he heard his spine crack several times.

"Ssto—hoph sto-..." He coughed and wretched. "Sto-hoph it!" He finally snatched the wrist of that offending appendage, which seemed determined to make him cough his poor lungs out.

Dan gave him his most innocent and cute face. "Not helping?" Gene cleared his burning throat. "Not one bit." He wheezed again.

Dan looked excessively please and grinned at Red, who giggled secretly into his hand, pretending to rub his chin.

Ash pointed and accounted the three, for how they behaved in his opinion, and he was not tolerating it. "Idiot. Idiot. Moron."

Gene's face fell, looking genuinely heartbroken and clueless over the insult of their older sibling. "And why am I being the moron?"

"Because you get on my nerves." Ash responded to him while eyeing the other two with a defeated look.

The two 'idiots' high fived each other proudly, proclaiming their status to each other. "Idiot. Nice to meet you. I'm also an idiot."

"Well, I love you, too." Gene retorted to Ash with a wide grin, while rubbing his inflamed chest, as he went and ignored his younger siblings altogether.

It suddenly changed the whole mood and they all went solemn and silent. "It's true." Red and Dan had stopped and turned towards them, all the grins where wiped off their faces and they viewed each other with longing gazes.

Dan nodded. "It's really good to see you, boys."

Gene straightened up, briefly checking if his spine was indeed intact and came over, standing next to Ash, who had lowered his head. "I've missed you. It's truly good to be back together again." And then Ash gave them all one of his rare fully fledged smiles. The one that would have made a human cry and fall to their knees in shame, if they ever saw it in all it's beauty and grace.

Gene knocked against Ash's immense chest, as he looked up at his brother, standing one feet above him. "It is. But, there's not much time to be sentimental for long." He waved over at the Temen-ni-gru. "If this isn't the source of all troubles, then call me a horse. It's foul smell is all over the city. Even though, it might be a desecrated ruin, it stands atop of our place. And I say, that is offending enough. Let's find Danzig, and see what is going on."

"Hear, hear." Dan said, nodding. "Agreed."

They all stared around, a bit clueless at last, before eyeing Ash, their leader in question, when no older sibling, namely Danzig or Al, sibling was around.

"So, where to start?"

* * *

Dante watched Nero and Devon giggling together like children from the designated spot at his desk, trying to get a hold of all people he knew, that hadn't been warned yet to look out for the hostile angles and to find himself a new car, after these _pigeons_ , like Nero had called them so aptly, had thrashed his beautiful gem of a classic beauty.

They had moved to the couch after dinner and, which came totally out of nowhere, Nero had gotten up and pulled some DVD's from the old trunk next to the bar, where Dante kept most of his records for the jukebox.

Devon had followed his every move and it certainly didn't go unnoticed by the keen devil hunter at the desk, who had smiled to himself at the growing affection, displayed fully on the woman's face. Nero was oblivious to it, and not just because he had his back to her. In Dante's books, Nero was still just a, admittedly very curious, but innocent boy. And he didn't need any confirmation, though Nero showed it to him as he finally turned around with cheeks of rosy pink, because Dante also kept part of his adult film section in there, too.

Nero had brushed along the DVD's in order to find his favorite movies and involuntarily discovered Dante's questionable treasures. He huffed at the hunter with the knowing smile. "Not that I recommend it for a lazy afternoon, but you sure should watch some of those." Dante mumbled, eyes now back at scanning the newspaper.

Nero's eyes widened in horror at the overly suggestive tone, snapping the trunk shut, when Devon tried to peek, though they all were well aware, she wouldn't be able to make anything out from that distance. Still, Nero wasn't going to take even the slightest chances. He knew how it would backfire, to try and not think of watching any of these with a woman, but naturally, it made him think about it of-fucking-course.

Nero brushed Dante off with a glare, that matched Vergil's at his best, or worst, times. "I'll never." Though he felt like simply walking over without any indication, and smack the hunter into next Tuesday, hr didn't and his voice actually sounded only a little bit spiteful.

Yet, Dante heard the rapid heartbeat of Nero and saw the reddened face; he was mighty pleased about his success on getting Nero flustered and take his mind and readjust it to something entirely different. He enjoyed being the instigator far too much for his own good sometimes. "Just keep it down. I'm trying to make some calls here."

It would have made perfect sense, but the way he wiggled his eyebrows let Nero groan, begging him to shut up just with just his eyes, not wanting to alert Devon to anything close as to what he had just seen on the covers of Dante's collection, leaving nothing to the imagination. And his mind not only continued to sprint into that direction, but trample like a stampede to mow down any coherent thought, like Dante had wanted it to.

However, Nero was insufferably adamant and kept his face straight, as much as possible, stalking over to the TV and inserting a disc into the player next to it. He hadn't forgotten about his promise to show Devon some movies, it just had been shoved away so far into the back of his head, because his excruciating guilt never left him a second to breathe. Only to find out eventually, he had a breather after the nap and dinner, that he actually wouldn't mind, after Dante had suggested they take it easy for today and do something for fun. Just for as long as Vergil and Nero were up to take the watch and relieve the others in the evening.

Oh, the look Dante had received from Devon at that advice, was worth it all. At first she looked mortified, but when Nero actually didn't object, she gave him a secret, very appreciative, smile. And he knew, his gut had been right, mentally patting himself on the back. And here Dante was, trying to further investigate into his feelings and why exactly Nero had been so edgy lately.

So, when the giggling started, Dante indeed was pleased to watch, how they both actually gave each other some leverage and a chance to have some time together, without anything that threatened them. Sometimes, the best way to deal with heavy stuff, is to not deal with it at all. It gave one a chance to take a step back and change the perspective and perception of it, with not focusing so hard one thing and completely disregarding the other. It worked for Dante, because he taught himself a long time ago to not brood about things too much. At first a mere reflex of self preservation, but later a solid method to not drown in the dark waters, his mind could be made of. Something Nero had to figure out for himself, though he had a habit of turning it into blind anger, when it didn't work.

And in comes Devon, with her broad smile and a soul, which had been steeled and worn out all the same on the streets of Capulet City for many a year, with a strength to accept things and deal with them in a way, that sobered even Dante. Though he heard the cracks, when he first found her in the rain and the breaking of it sounded through his entire soul, only to find out, that with finding someone to trust into, she actually shed the outer shell and could cry over it, only to go on, after the first storm had passed, for now. He couldn't begin to think, how hard it still was, but the bond she had with Pesh, was becoming stronger, which he had witnessed today. Pesh had incited both hope and fear. A mix, Devon was fueled by instead of holding her back. What it meant for Pesh though, not even Danzig could say, still trying to find a way to break them apart, without doing damage to either of them.

Strange times and stranger things were to happen and he could sniff it off the skin of hers, that had healed under the angel's power, just like he could smell it within this very house, whenever the riders and Danzig had been around.

Yet, most importantly, Nero, with slowly accepting the hands reaching out to him, could walk on to. And he did so, even without realizing it. He fought like he did in Fortuna. He had displayed absolute control over his bringer and Dante could have jumped and hugged him right then and there. Nero's own fear had gagged his reflexes, but Dante knew, with faith presented to him, he was on a good path, he should have just seen it sooner. And he was also absolutely sure, that Nero's own trigger could be called forth at some point, he just didn't know how. Only, that it was different for Nero, than for Vergil and himself.

He had a hunch, though, which he wouldn't talk about. Not yet. Nero had to want it. Truly want it.

Dante thought about a lot things, while he made his calls and the last one, his last attempt on getting a ride worth replacing the destroyed one, miraculously succeeded, giving him a name and an address to collect it from. Throwing his fist into the air, as he was told to meet right now, he threw the receiver back onto he phone and opened the first drawer of his desk, where he located a small wooden box with his own last savings, that yet hadn't found their way into Lady's vast pockets. But only thanks to Nero and Vergil's nagging to get more jobs, than he and Trish would have managed on their own. Vergil, even in his aloof state and distant behavior, had proved himself to be the topmost hunter all in all, and also dragging Nero along with him, whenever he saw fit. And Nero had soaked Vergil's knowledge up like a dried up sponge.

Even if Vergil acted like he had no gratitude for being saved, which they had discussed thoroughly, he still contributed relentlessly and seemingly against his nowadays nature, making Dante obsessed and confused about his motivations in the first place. He knew Vergil. He knew what Vergil had been like. But this Vergil was a concoction without recipe and with a highly unhealthy side effect. He still was on to figuring it out and up until now, whenever he seemed like he just went with it, he played along for the sake of getting down to the bottom of the murky waters of the person Vergil had become. And Dante couldn't shake the feeling of dread, embroiled into his very heart whenever he looked his brother in the eyes, that he still hadn't seen nearly the end of it all.

Nero and Devon sat comfortably on the couch, next to each other, with Nero actually having a leg propped up and Devon casually leaning agaisnt it with her side. It was closer, than any of them would have anticipated.

Devon allowed herself to test the waters, telling herself to not be disappointed though in the process. And Pesh told her, not to be discouraged either, which was a heavy switch for him. And when asked, he simply coiled back, saying it wouldn't matter to him one way or the other. There had been quite the change in their dynamic and how they viewed each other apparently, which Devon didn't have come to notice. They had discovered, how they actually weren't that far apart with their goals. And Nero had thanked him, in quite a Nero-fashion, but it still counted and was valid.

Also, Pesh had seen, what was happening with Devon. The heart wanted, what the heart wanted. There was no easy way out and certainly not one way to stop it altogether. Pesh could only hope. But his hope was meant for something. When Pesh had hope, it was something you better listened to. If someone saw, who was damaged beyond repair, it was him. So, his hope was somehow Devon's hope. And when she relaxed back and against Nero's leg, and he didn't budge, nor complain or remotely moved away, it flared up. And Devon's quickened heartbeat registered by Pesh, flared it up even more. And he couldn't help but smile. Nothing was lost on Nero, on contrary as Pesh had first had believed, when witnessing him giving up so easily. Even, if he had seen things, under which weight most people would break. Though, it wasn't initially Nero or Devon, who got him thinking further in advance, but staring at Vergil, who carried a burden as heavy as the world, loaded onto him by himself and enhanced by his years away from the human realm, that Pesh had realized, Nero wasn't entirely broken either. Looking closely at Vergil at the siren's place convinced him even more, more than his first glimpse at the blue devil through Devon's dead eyes, that Nero was indeed pretty similar. And Pesh did, what he did best, listening to his guts rather than anything else.

Yes, Pesh had hope. He held hope for every single one of them and the state of them, him included. It was the only he thing he had and for now, it was enough.

Devon knew, Pesh was closing himself off, not talking or listening, just keeping to himself, after he had estimated, where they stood. She couldn't deny her attraction, nor was she willing to, as foolish as it may be, judging by how little she knew about Nero. But that wasn't even bothering her. All she saw, was how he laughed with her and tried to explain different things throughout the movie, whenever she was confused, because she missed context. Her mind had a hard time, looking at him and keeping up with the flick on screen, not that she tried hard enough. It made him talk and it was all she was asking for. A conversation. To hear his mellow voice, that was deep at times, betraying his youthful looks. And she reveled in the contact he allowed them to have, even going so far as to nudge her arm, when something important came up. "Watch closely." Or he just wanted her to see one of his favorite scene. Halfway into the second movie, Dante had gotten up, informing them, he would have to leave, but he'd be back soon, within an hour or so.

"You need me to come with you?" Nero asked halfheartedly, more out of reflex and not because he actually meant it. He was enjoying himself fairly good so far. No, it was a lie, it was a blast. Devon showed much devotion to the movies, and he liked the fact, he finally found someone to live through them with him and his enthusiasm. And his lighthearted chatter, about the actual scenes he liked best. If she was being polite or genuine, he couldn't say. But it sure as hell, felt genuine and he'd just take it, for what is was worth.

Dante waved him off, holstering his guns, stuffing cash into the insides of his coat, and attaching Rebellion to his back. "That's alright. I can manage. I'm just gonna fetch something quickly."

"Get Vergil, then." Nero actually didn't want to see Dante go alone, but the hunter scrunched his nose up, leaning back, playing the offended. "He'd just ruin my good mood. I'll be fine. And I'd rather have him here, you know, when Danzig returns, and you both will still go out together."

"Yeah, right." Nero got it, and his initial thought was, he was again being patronized, but on the other hand, he knew Dante was right. He could look after himself, and Nero felt, having Vergil here just in case, wasn't so bad either. Funny, how easy it was to comply after some things shifted into place and made a lot more sense. Like the way Devon leaned against his leg and he sure as hell didn't mind one bit. Yep, actually far to comfortable for once than to be anywhere else. He would have almost laughed out loud, but opted for a soft chuckle on all accounts, the one in sight and inside. "Dante? You be good."

"You too, kid." Dante replied, already on his way out in his usual, confident swagger, which alone was able to tell people to bugger off, not to mention the guns and the huge sword.

After Dante had wandered off, Devon turned to Nero, elbow now resting on his knee for support. "Aren't you curious, where he is off to?"

Nero's eyes briefly flickered down at the forward contact, and back up. He grinned. "The only one curious is you."

Devon gave him her best blank look, which she found actually hard, for his smile was to die for and her mouth twitched traitorously. "Not at all."

Whoever she tried to kid, Nero wasn't buying it in the least, so his grin even widened. If she had paid attention, she would have known. Though, he had to consider, she had been very much occupied with the comedy flick. Which again, had been a good sign. They had giggled throughout the whole movie and with every lighthearted giggle, Nero had felt the tension crumble from his form until he had fully relaxed.

"He is just getting a new car," he finally said, nudging her a little more, as to playfully tell her, it was alright. His broad grin hit Devon in all the right spots and she acknowledged it fully this time, draping her arm over his knee even more, which he surprisingly let her do.

"So, nothing to worry about?"

Nero nodded, changing position ever so slightly, so Devon could get visibly comfortable. Awkward silence ensued, with Nero trying to calm his heartbeat, for the closeness made him nervous still. He inwardly gave himself a pep talk, about how this was okay. About how physical contact was normal between people and he was acting more suspicious, if he flinched away everytime it was initiated. This was perfectly normal and nothing out of the ordinary.

And it worked. Magically so, as they continued to silently watch the next movie. Nero had to get up to change disks and he came back, as Devon actually waited for him in a posture, that told him, he'd fit right into. And he did, as he sat down, one leg stretched, so his foot was on the table and the other bent again, for her to rest her arm on and prop her head up on.

Halfway through, so Nero guessed, or even before, he realized, her head nodding forward and her arms slipping. Devon apologized, drowsy and halfheartedly, to which he looked down at her with the most gentle expression she had ever seen from him. "It's okay. If you're tired, just close your eyes."

It only slowly registered in Devon's already far too hazy mind, but her arm slipped, which it totally didn't. Devon took the opportunity and her head rested on his thigh, as he straightened both his legs so she could lay there not as awkwardly bent as before. When she finally had assumed her position, he puffed his cheeks out and exhaled a breath, he didn't know he was holding.

Devon's cheek felt the rough material of his jeans, felt the muscle tense underneath and then relax. And so did she, arms tugged beneath her and head still moving until she had the most comfortable position, that no bed in the world could ever give her. And the safety of his presence.

Nero fought the stiffening muscles, biting his lip, for it had been so long, that he allowed anyone to be this close. He tried to focus on the TV and not the warm breath seeping through the fabric on his thigh. Her even breath, under which her body rose and fell in a rhythm, which became steady with every passing minute, he was telling his heart to endure until it was as even and calm as her body.

Nero yet roughly breathed through his flaring nostrils, peeking down incrediously, but not without satisfaction at last. Devon laid in his lap. The words sprang at him, as he screamed them in his mind. She was. In. His. Lap. And, he didn't mind. At all. All those little things came back to him. How they went to the super market. How she had touched his bringer outside on the steps. How she had smashed him into the wall on that fateful night and how he had been able to get her out of the wrath, after she had died and been brought back. How he had been angry and sad. And how it wasn't her fault. And how it wasn't his fault either.

His bringer moved on it's own accord. The one, she forgot about this very noon, after she had made a mess in the bathroom. And he rested it on her shoulder to which she let out a soft, small moan through her closed mouth. And it vibrated through his leg. Or rather shot through it like a streak of lightning.

And then he grinned. Grinned from ear to ear with flaring cheeks, he was glad no one could see. Damn.

The movie flickered before his eyes, but inside his head it didn't even reach, as he sunk deeper into the couch and cushions. He wouldn't call it happy right away, but he was at ease with the weight on his leg. At ease with her presence, even with the one inside. He knew, he felt it stir from time to time, though it wasn't agitating. No, it felt like the soothing warmth, he already knew from the night, where had rested next to her on his chair, as she had basically slept her injuries off.

Nero felt tiredness wash over him and succumbed without warning or a second thought, closing his eyes willingly. For once, sleeping on the couch didn't seem such a bad idea. And he couldn't hear the presence coming inside, completely unnoticed by anyone. Not even Pesh, who also reveled in the strange sensation a peacefully sleeping Devon exuded. It drowned out any other thing, he might have felt, with the presence silently closing the door and masking his power altogether, like the good cunning creature he was.

The man, invading the house so shamelessly, looked around with much interest. So this was the devil hunter's home now. Messy. A bit of dust collected here and there, compared to the other shop, he had long ago set foot in. Many scents hung heavy in the air and some he didn't even know, and quite a few he definitely knew, but didn't know where to put, for he had thought, it had been wiped off the face off the earth forever. Intriguing.

The two sleeping forms on the big sofa, he didn't know either. Yet, didn't they look like quite the lovebirds? The white hair of the boy was a dead giveaway of affiliation, though. But in what way? He was very much inclined to shake the boy awake and ask where Dante was, for he instantly knew, he wasn't here. On the other hand, they looked rather cute, so he let them have a bit more time to snuggle each other. The girl was human, or so he believed, or scents were misleading him, which was highly unlikely but not unheard of, for there was a much sweeter one, which couldn't be from her alone.

Lucifer let the riddle be riddle for now and he didn't have the notion to wreck the house just yet. With Vergil, he'd rather deal later and in Dante's presence, so the man opted for simply making himself at home and wait for whoever would come across him first. He refrained from chuckling out loud, but the wry smile did show, as he wandered over to the nice looking chair at he huge mahagoni desk.

He sat down, legs stretched out to plant his feet on the wooden surface, much like a distorted version of Dante, and silently scuffled through leaves of notes and a few magazines, he found entertaining enough to stick his nose in, until he would give them the scare of their lives and himself quite the good laugh.

* * *

Dante was gone longer, than any of them expected. And Nero was the first to move, after a rather short but yet another satisfying nap. He peeked through one eye at the screen which showed the endless loop of the movie title menu. His eyes flickered at the digital clock of the player, wondering why Vergil hadn't woken him up. Then he became aware of the weight on him, Devon had even snuggled closer and his arm was draped protectively over her sleeping form.

Some noise must have woken him or so he thought, as he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his scrunched up nose. Nero cleared his dry throat, which felt like parchment and dust, as he looked at his bringer, yet it was dim as he carefully took it off Devon's side. Nothing seemed off. Good.

His ears picked up a curious noise from behind, which sounded almost like an echo of his own movements, but wasn't. The moment he turned his head, he half expected Dante to occupy his usual spot, but it wasn't Dante.

On turn, he didn't catch the familiar flash of white, but a deep shade of foreign lush brown with a reddish tint enhanced by the dim lights. Dark eyes stared back at him, full of unknown intent from a man, he had never seen before. Nero had heard his name before, but naturally couldn't bring the name and the man at Dante's desk together. No one had ever told him, how he looked. Yet, he heard the name twice.

So, when Lucifer looked at him with unveiled anticipating, blood red tongue wiggling behind teeth visible through a half open mouth, yet body completely still, Nero shot up from his place. Devon's head fell without a warning down and bounced off the couch to shake her awake in an instant to look around terrified.

She stared up at Nero, who grunted at something or someone she couldn't see from her declined position. Devon scrambled to her knees, gripping the backrest fiercely and laying eyes on the same man, Nero was now openly snarling at.

"Who the hell are you?" Nero didn't waste any time to go from sleepy to wide awake and hostile to such unlikely intrusion.

Lucifer held his head high, eyes narrowed and grin as malicious, as they come. He stood up and the next thing Nero knew, he was staring into a black scalera and a fiery iris around an even darker pupil, that could have been a black hole, for all he knew.

Nero staggered back, fully taken by surprise. There was no flash of anything, that had indicated, the man had moved. One blink he was there, next he stood so close, their noses almost touched.

Devon scrambled up from her spot, ready to do whatever. Something stupid, no less. But one look from those deviant eyes, and she had to stop dead in her tracks by force. Inside her head, Pesh was yelling to not get closer, not to move and not to say anything, his voice making it impossible to focus on anything else. Her first instinct had been to run to Nero, Pesh's first had been to change, but with this heavy feeling of dreadful intent, he was rendered immobile too.

Lucifer grabbed Nero's devil bringer, fascinated by it. "I've never seen a hybrid to have something like this. How'd you get that," he asked in a tone, that could have been asking for a weather forecast, instead of declaring interest about a significant showing of demonic limb.

"Don't you dare touch me." Nero's lips curled against his bared teeth in a low snarl. But he and Lucifer knew it was the snarl of a wounded fox trapped in a bind. Lucifer was beyond strong, not measurable by Nero's standards at all.

Nero pulled back, or thought he did, but no muscle moved. Yet, his bringer flared, lighting the face of the red haired man and his eyes became fiery pits of hell.

"Now, now. I just want a closer look, if you don't mind." Lucifer said in a more soothing voice, smooth and raspy in all the right places, that made him sound like Nero almost could believe him. Almost.

"Fuck off!" Nero started to rampage inside out, trying to retrieve his arm by pulling wildly, but it didn't seem to heed him one bit.

Lucifer's hold was crushing, Nero felt the bony, scaled skin around his wrist scrape and scrunch with a sickening sound, like brittle twigs and dry leaves under heavy stomps. And then the pain came.

Nero roared under the touch of brutal fingers, which he knew by now, weren't normal fingers. No human strength could hold that much force. Lucifer bent his wrist further, to an unnatural angle, so he could look closer, all while being exceptionally calm and seemingly unaffected by Nero's harsh cry, who simply went down on his one knee, now breathing heavily through his gaping mouth. It hurt so much and fear set in, for the man had absolutely no trouble in keeping him confined with nothing but a mere touch.

This was, when Devon found her own voice, yelling at Lucifer, to let Nero go, going so far as to grab his arm and the hand, that held Nero in such a dreadful, vice like grip.

And Devon knew, she made a mistake, when the deep scraping of rocks hit hear ear canals, as loud as if she stood in a collapsing building. It was grinding stone and glass, deafening each and every one. But it was enough for Nero to at least have time to shove back.

Shove Lucifer away and Devon back, bringing his body between them, though he almost went half blind from that burst of involuntary rage, Lucifer was more astounded by, than anyone.

The touch had triggered something carnal, and his keen eyes tried to look over Nero's shoulder to see the female cower in fear of him. He shook his head at her. "Humans."

"I'll rip your throat out, if you touch her." Nero warned him through clenched teeth, voice becoming exceptionally low itself.

Devon stared at Nero's broad back, when he spat those words at Lucifer, trying to focus again after his inhuman growl, while Pesh inside her went almost haywire. "Don't touch him! Don't threaten him! Don't even LOOK!"

And when Pesh displayed such a ferocious mix of anger and disgust, she listened. He was able to help her clear her mind off the malice and have her shaking knees not tremble as much any more to make her cower.

"Nero." Devon whispered behind him urgently, wrapping her hand around his upper arm, like a warning, that he shouldn't have said it. "Please, don't."

But Nero was fueled and ready to attack, shielding her as much he could and even having a mind to shove the woman further away once more and taking another step forward. "Come on, asshole."

Lucifer chuckled darkly, craning and cracking his neck. He'd surely have fun teaching this one a lesson. "Mind who you're talking to, boy," Lucifer stated, calmly at first, but his voice turned into a double layered echo, like a hiss and Nero watched with wide eyes, as he blew a cloud of curling smoke out of his mouth, that hit his face and lungs, smelling and tasting like fire and brimstone. It made Nero's eyes water.

Lucifer grinned at him through the vapor. "You are more human, than devil. Do you really think that's a smart move?" He deducted the fact easily from the bodily reaction, the poor boy had. He had no control over it, evident on how rapidly Nero was trying to blink the annoying sting and tears away. Nero let out an annoyed. "You talk too much."

All the while, Pesh was begging Devon to be let out. Begging and yelling, his voice getting hoarse with the urgency, knowing that Lucifer was indeed ready to give them a good beating. He could feel it, taste it, smell the smoke and see the red cloud around them, that was Lucifer's bitter aura.

Nero held his bringer up as a means to defend them, at least for a small while, but he wasn't sure, he'd even have anything to match up. Behind him, he heard Devon's ragged breath and could hear her heart drumming, loud and fast, and just when he prepared himself for the first hit, Devon was next to him and he refrained from yelling Vergil's name. But he didn't have to. Vergil's inward battle upstairs quickly came a solution, when he had heard Nero's yell of pain, mere seconds of emotional preparations now and a quick use of his link to Dante, to tell him trouble had come right into their home.

Golden light was shimmering, pulling Lucifer's full attention to it. He couldn't look away, when the form stepped in front of Nero, just like the boy had done before to shield the woman, she was now protecting him, or was she?

Yet, the woman was changing, her face altered in a blur of the immense brightness, then like stepping out of a cloud, the human became something else entirely. Misty swirls revealed the face crowned with messy blonde hair. Lucifer laughed without any humor left. The long lost brother of Danzig. Now that was a change.

Pesh regarded Lucifer with a stunning glare, so much alike Danzig that Lucifer forgot to breath for a moment. So worthy, the boy was, Lucifer couldn't tear his eyes off of him.

"I know you," he said, voice barely a gruff whisper.

"You should," Pesh retorted, voice commanding, louder and fuller to make Nero shake and Lucifer scoff. Yet, Pesh managed to hold that friendly tone, which Lucifer also knew from Danzig. That infuriating friendly, patronizing swing to it, he had come to hate so much sometimes.

However, he didn't have time to address Danzig's younger brother, for a flash of blue interrupted the eye contact without warning. Another surprise was forming on front of him, which he had sensed before, but to be honest, not expected to interfere like this.

Nero and Pesh flinched, when Vergil suddenly appeared in the room, drawn in by the strong presence, that was fluctuating messily, with Pesh's appearance.

Vergil did remember, what Danzig had said. And by no means, he wanted to explain to anyone, why Lucifer was attacking them, harming them in more ways than one - possibly. It wouldn't happen, not at least while he was here. Vergil's cold blue eyes narrowed at Lucifer, as he teleported directly between him and the other two. Vergil shoved the thought of being no match either aside, not in this state, but he didn't care at this moment.

Vergil eyes flickered over to Pesh. "You, get back inside." Then he regarded Nero with a warning glare, that held no intent of being disobeyed and Nero felt the urgency, ready to bolt, yet not ready to leave Vergil behind at all.

"Get out." Was all Vergil had to say to Nero. Lucifer's focus was now entirely on the blue devil and Vergil knew this, ready to take the heat and all the burning questions, Lucifer might have had for him. But not with them here in the same room. "Look for Danzig and bring him here, so he can put his friend on the leash, he is to be held on." For now the irony was lost on Lucifer.

They did no such thing, but stayed together, though Pesh indeed retreated to let Devon scuffle closer to Nero, both still shaken, too astonished to move, and too stubborn to leave Vergil, as he wordlessly challenged Lucifer. Nero would have refused noisily, if his voice would have allowed him, and Devon would have stayed with him regardless.

"What do we have here?" Lucifer was highly amused, politely disregarding the cute remarks, Vergil made about his preferred state of being. "I thought you were dead," Lucifer inquired further on, while cocking his head to on side.

"He was." A female voice interrupted them all. The stand off and stare off came to an abrupt halt, as they all finally realized there was another person in the vicinity. Lucifer glared over at her, she barely nodded. No one could fathom, what that was supposed to mean.

"I thought the same of him," she replied softly. Disbelief slowly creeping all over her face, as she regarded Vergil and his appearance.

"When did you sneak in," Lucifer asked, slightly disgruntled. She didn't answer, didn't even look at him. She had wanted to wait on the roof or something, Lucifer hadn't listened much to her quarrel with him wanting to pull his 'childish' prank on Dante or so her words might have been. She must have felt the presence of Vergil after all, to which she couldn't do anything but come and lay her eyes on the hybrid herself. Ah, yes, the heart was a fickle thing. Good thing, that he himself had none.

"Al?" Suspicion rose in Vergil's voice, soon to be sharp like the edges of Yamato. The woman raised her head and gray eyes regarded him stoically. She didn't say anything, but the subtle movement of her eyes told him, she was just as surprised as him.

"Why are you with him?" The hint of the familiarity between Lucifer and Al made it better to digest the initial shock, but also made it harder to understand. Vergil was brimming with energy, and Nero next to him felt it, soaking it all up and the violent tendency with it. Vergil was close to trigger, to snap like a rubber band, that was pulled too taut. Nero didn't know who she was, but Vergil apparently did. The moment she spoke, the blue devil grew so much more agitated, than the other one had been able to make him. Which was a miracle in itself. Vergil's control was faltering and Nero prayed, that Dante was near enough, so he could feel it. And make Vergil stop, before something awful would happen.

"We were traveling together." The woman with dark hair and gray eyes explained rigidly, hearing the reproach in his voice. And it seemed to highly bother her.

Her face was that of disgust. He had no right to question her. Her chest felt tight as she looked into the face, which hadn't changed much after all those years between them. Then and now. It felt like two different lives and the bitterness, she thought she had escaped from, came back with full force, knocking her heart out of it's steady tact.

"Do you belong to him now?" Vergil fought to keep his voice flat, and let Yamato only feel the wrath as his fist tightened around the hilt. The sword whispered in his mind to cut Lucifer up. And Vergil did feel like that would be a satisfying thing to do. To obliterate the root of all his sorrows would feel so rewarding. Yet, he simply couldn't. Even in full possession of his strength this would be a battle he'd likely were to loose.

Lucifer laughed at Vergil for his immature comment. "She belongs to no one." Stupid devil boy. He certainly had learned nothing. And while he spoke, to everyone's puzzlement, Lucifer once more made himself at home in Dante's beloved chair. Like nothing had happened and as if they hadn't been on the brim of tearing each other to pieces just a few seconds ago. Lucifer's ability to switch his presence on and off like a light, was nothing new to Vergil though. He stayed, glued to the spot, between Lucifer and Nero, with Devon hanging on to the younger man's hand without either of them realizing. Vergil felt sick suddenly, but he didn't care anymore, if they knew.

"She belonged to me once." It was a mere whisper in defeat and pain. Vergil's lips formed a straight line, the only expression that would give away the loss he had felt, as he had decided to seek his destiny at that time, accepting the consequences of his actions.

Nero could have fallen flat on his face, for how hard this peculiar information hit him. No, it slapped him straight across the face, actually. He just couldn't believe he heard that right. Actually heard, that Vergil had a woman. No one had ever mentioned, not even vaguely hinted, anything about a woman in Vergil's life at all. Nero stared at Vergil, mouth half open, like he just heard the most ridiculous story ever. Angels and devils, he could handle, but Vergil and this woman, who was so beautiful, Nero didn't have words for it either, went way over his imagination capacity. Not even, when Vergil had been trapped inside his head, he had known. Which meant and explained all the same, how deep a buried memory this must have been.

"I belong only to myself." Al's defiant voice told Vergil, proud and harsh, like her eyes. "You betrayed me, remember?" Al spat the words at him and Vergil flinched ever so slightly.

"I did what was necessary." He said it, like it was an actual excuse. Then he fixed his icy stare back on Lucifer. "Did you not tell her anything", he demanded from Lucifer. He couldn't believe, that the accursed devil never slipped a single word to her. She still believed him to be a traitor.

"You did, what you did. It was of your own volition." Lucifer had the audacity to shrug Vergil off with stating, what in a nutshell was indeed the truth. Additionally, those blatant words could mean anything to anyone. In fact, they were completely disregarding the crass impact of the harsh and mind numbing journey he had made, delivering him to his fate worse than death, much more gruesome, than in his own worst dreams.

Vergil trembled with seething rage, yet again close to a wrath fit for the one, that was the almighty Lucifer. He wanted to tear him apart and slice him to tiny chunks. He wanted to break and burst.

It came without warning for everyone else. "Everything I did!" Vergil roared at their astonished faces now, fury writhed in his vivid eyes and was evident in the tightening of his muscles, as he unsheathed Yamato and pointed the shiny, blood lusty tip at Lucifer, ready to lunge. Nero knew, he mas missing a huge chunk, for Vergil sounded so reproachful, for everything he did, seemed like a great deal that no one actually tried to clarify to him. Everything he did, had some purpose, yet Vergil didn't finish his outburst.

"Well, seems to me it did not fare well." Lucifer mocked him. "You underestimated Arkham. And you overestimated yourself."

Vergil breathed heavily, fighting a battle on the inside to calm himself. This blind rage wouldn't get the better of him. Not now. Not ever. If he'd ever allow anyone to get under his skin this much, that action was reserved for Dante and Dante alone, not some indecent corrupted being like Lucifer. "Complications arose." He felt his presence buckle under Lucifer's hard stare. He was looking right inside his head, or so Vergil felt.

"I can see that." Lucifer finally revealed, after inspecting Vergil's form on it's entirety thoroughly, jerking his head at him. "Who do you belong to?" He was painfully curious about the story behind Vergil and the sorry state of his existence.

"No one," Vergil snapped back.

"Who are you trying to fool, boy? I can see, what you are." Lucifer by now seemed clearly amused by this, more than he was angry actually, wearing a full sneer to underline his change of mood. "Geez, Verge, what happened?" As if they were good friends, having a chat after a long absence.

"Dante." Vergil relented, while he huffed, for it became painful to breath, when Lucifer's power was so raw on display, creeping into every single crevice of Vergil's fractured mind. Being a devil arm had it's advantages, but it clearly had some handicaps as well. Lucifer's power had much more impact on him in this overly unpleasant state than before.

"Well, I passionately am inclined to listen to that story," Lucifer remarked eagerly, leaning back in the chair in a fully relaxed state, as the front door burst open.

"Hey, you. Get your ass off my chair." And here he was, in all his red glory, bouncing through the front entrance like a scorching solar storm of giddy happiness.

Lucifer did not heed him, instead he twirled around 360 degrees to lay a glorious smile on the hunter, relishing in Dante's spite with a mischievous expression. "Dante. It is good to see you." He greeted the half-devil, smile widening until he looked freakishly wicked – distorted for a moment – but happy?

Dante certainly had aged over the years, but still all in his favor. Not to mention the youthful spunk hadn't left him, nor the smart mouth. That light scruff around the chin made him more handsome, than Lucifer could have ever imagined. With a dreamy smile, Lucifer's eyes wandered slowly up and down Dante's frame, trying to catch a hint of the bulky muscles through the many layers of fabric, he wore these days, which was a pity as to the more revealing outfits, he had worn, when he had been younger.

Lucifer sighed in content, nonetheless. "You certainly look good..." He refrained from adding 'boy'. Solely judged by the age gap between them, he still was, but by appearance, Dante was absolutely not a boy anymore. He had grown into a man worthy of any attention. Delicious.

Dante felt the gravitating allure from Lucifer and it made his mouth go dry. How could he have ever forgotten this kind of effect on him? He really couldn't do anything, but return the compliment. "Same for you." Lucifer hadn't changed in the slightest, which was all too pleasant and not appropriate, considering what strange situation Dante had just diffused, by pulling Lucifer's attention on himself with a mere swagger of hips, luckily. The devil sported a different, expensive suit, but that was anticipated. He looked as good as Dante could remember. Scruffy hair, scruffy beard and a glorious smile to boot, that could melt the steel of his sword and made you question your sexuality altogether, if Dante had anything left to question.

But Dante's eyes soon fell on the figure standing behind to Lucifer. "Al?"

By God, she hadn't changed as at all. She was a beauty still not matched by many. Her dark hair was longer and more curly. Her gray eyes still looked like the glum center of a rainstorm.

The tension between all those present was thick and heavy. Certainly Dante had come at the right time. Al sure as hell looked like she needed an explanation. And rather quick. And by someone, that wasn't Vergil, whom she regarded with a sour look, that spelled distrust on all accounts.

Without further ado, he addressed her directly, ignoring the poignant stare of Vergil and the smirk of Lucifer. "Vergil is with me. It's all good."

"He betrayed us!" She suddenly yelled and apparently her voice hadn't lost it's touch either, for his inner devil roared in his head to make her not use it again.

"He didn't." Dante replied in a calm fashion, that fooled every occupant of the room, except for his twin.

Lucifer clapped his hands. He solved the mystery. Vergil belonged to Dante. He knew it, when the red clad devil had entered the house. Whatever had happened to Vergil, it certainly did not turn out too well. As to why he was a Devil Arm, now that story would indeed be interesting. It certainly smelled like Danzig had his hands in there as well.

On the downside though, Lucifer knew, the twin hadn't succeeded in the task he had been given, which was truly a shame. Yet, he still had to ask.

"Who defeated Mundus?"

All eyes turned to Dante, which made Lucifer chuckle. This was another pleasant surprise indeed.

"It seems like 'Dante' is the answer to everything these days." He leaned forward, intrigued by all means, also still looking very amused. "And that's another story I want to hear. I've been disjointed for too long apparently."

"That can wait 'til later. All that matters is that Vergil's back with us. He never turned on us, technically. He's just a stubborn fool."

"Almost a shadow. Less than a man." Lucifer concluded in a dark taunting voice. He saw how Vergil had to shed his human side to become a fully fledged Devil Arm - a most powerful at that - but still, nothing but a tool, his existence bound to his brother.

However, even if Dante was holding the leash, to Lucifer it was evident that he could go and do as he pleased. Still, to him Vergil seemed reduced from his primal, savage and beautiful form, he had first met many years ago, to a tamed version of lesser value than his dear brother. Dante had grown exceptionally strong, though. Exuding intoxicating power, Lucifer had a hard time to not crave and wanting to sink his teeth into right there and then.

Vergil was still brimming with anger and it spiked with every time, Lucifer opened that goddamn mouth of his and Dante shot Lucifer a warning look. "Watch it, pal."

Vergil had endured yearlong torture and worse, so he wouldn't stand by and let him get insulted. Not by anyone. Certainly not the tainted angel, who had no right to judge anyone on their actions, and not only in Dante's opinion.

Unable to bear the stare of her eyes any longer, Vergil cast his gaze sideways and vanished, using his teleportation skill without another word to spare.

"Oh, he's gone off sulking." Lucifer clapped his hands madly in delight over Vergil's distress.

"And if so, it's your fault," Al snapped at Lucifer, before turning and marching for the front door. "Where do you think you're going?" Lucifer called after her, but Al didn't even skip a beat until she was out. She heaved a heavy sigh, not within her wildest imaginations could she have predicted this. She was furious. Sullen. Confused.

"Sorry, Pesh." She whispered, knowing he could hear her. "I can't deal right now."

"It's okay. I understand." His sister's pain was his pain in that very moment, the blue devil had captured her attention. It was breaking his own heart over the fact, she had a history with him. Vergil wasn't a bad guy, yet there were things, no one was apparently eager to address at the moment. A lot of issues cackled like dry wood in a fire, deep a dark and endless forest, smoldering in secret silence far from view and help. This wasn't how he had wanted them to meet again.

"Good. I'm gonna look for our brothers."

"Are they here?" Hope was swinging within his voice again. And happiness. He was going to have the reunion he longed for. He could already feel his fingertips grazing their reached out hands, as soon as she had said it.

"Yes, everyone heard his call. I'm gonna bring them in. And then I'm going to hug the shit out of you."

Pesh chuckled at that. "Right. I'll hold you to that." Al was happy to hear, for when Pesh was happy, she was, too. Despite all this, her younger brother mattered more than the scars and bruises Vergil had left behind. Or so she would tell herself in hope for it to be true.

"I love you." Al stared up the nightly sky, voice still barely whisper, but it helped to calm her frantic heart, as she told Pesh, what she hadn't been able to say to him for what felt like forever. And it did help to make her heart feel much lighter.

"I know. That's why I'm not mad with you for fleeing the scene. Be careful. Love you, too." The connection withered and broke off as soon as she shielded herself from sight and mind, disappearing into he night veering off towards that dreadful tower. She had a lot to think about. And putting Pesh off like this didn't feel good, but not looking at Vergil felt better. Selfish little Al.

* * *

Death and War tangled after Danzig as he lead them to a building far from the center of the city. It was nestled in between living quarters of the humans, completely off the radar. It had a few dusty windows and a door with withered red paint on it. But they didn't approach it, but one of the dirty windows instead. Danzig drew a sign on it, which flared up briefly only to vanish again.

"Everyone else uses their blood to enter. It works the same as the wards at the shop." Danzig revealed the information along with his actions to disrupt the seal long enough so they could enter. Both riders had to duck to squeeze through. The feeling felt familiar to both though.

"It's a portal?" Death interjected in mild surprise, as they had gone through to the other side, which reveled to be a maze of dark corridors, old and destroyed, with flailing curtains in an unnatural breeze on blind windows along chipped walls with moldy scraps of brocade wallpapers. The wooden floor was covered in thick layers of dust, like everything else.

The most intriguing thing though was, that no matter how disintegrated and forlorn the place looked, it smelled like nothing of that sort. It was an illusion to whoever managed to venture across the realm, finding themselves in an artificial maze straight out of Danzig's mind.

"Something like that," Danzig replied in a hushed voice as they followed his silhouette through the strange half dark, that didn't feel like the human world any longer. Their footsteps were muffled, swallowed by the magic they treaded on, following Danzig's swaying, black cape, who moved swiftly and not like the old man he looked like.

It was putting both riders off. And the secrecy was unnerving to both of them equally, though War did endure it stoically whereas Death would not. "How far?"

"Almost there." The way was turn and walk all directions possible, until Death was close to snap. Luckily, just in that moment, where War could see the disgruntled expression of his brother turning into outright distaste, Danzig knocked on a wooden door, that they would have disregarded, or not even had seen in the first place.

It creaked open and once more, they had to duck to be able to go inside. "My humble abode welcomes you. It's like a pocket between space and time, I molded and turned inside out. We are surrounded by the human world, but technically not in it any longer. It's like a bubble, separated but not fully detached."

War hummed in appreciation and Death sided him with a huff. Danzig's power was indeed greater than any angel they had met before, and now was actually the time to really realize it to it's full extent.

"It's just a small trick up my sleeve, but for what we are intending to do, we need more help." Danzig acknowledged the silent affirmation by the riders with a mere shrug, meaning it was actually his most precious achievement – to hide himself for ages and ages, dead the world and the heavens. This was his personal bubble of nothingness he could exist in undisturbed and unseen. "I know, you think I can move the vault, but it exceeds my abilities by far. Forming portals and corridors through time and space isn't easy business."

They needed someone who could conjure and form a path of connection between the worlds. Danzig crossed his cozy study slash lounge. "Vulgrim. We have visitors."

The sly cackle came first. War and Death were completely unprepared, not anticipating the demon merchant, but when his horns emerged out of thin air first, both took a step back. Compelled and disgusted just the same. They should have known the trader to suck off on someone's nutrient existence. But Danzig's?

"Preposterous," Death merely snarled.

War on the other hand understood the necessity, having to use Vulgrim's ability himself quite a lot on his journey through the kingdom of man. And he knew how handy it had become and how impressive it actually was. Though, nothing Vulgrim offered came without a price. And this one could turn too expensive for all of them combined.

"There is no need to worry." Vulgrim bowed slightly, as his hoarse voice told them this, which none of the riders believed in the slightest.

"How did you worm your way into his sympathy?"

Vulgrim feigned deep hurt, as he grabbed the designated spot on his cheat, where some might have had their heart, but that did not apply to the merchant. "I am shook by such distrust. It was I who helped both of you throughout your adventures. Without me, you would have never succeeded. War, " he turned to the red rider, his toothy mouth distorted into a gruesome grin, "I have opened up the realms for you."

War showed his own canines, which wasn't a smile in the least. "True."

"Death", he swiveled toward the other one, his extending form, where the legs normal should have been, a slow swirl of dust and fumes, that reeked like hell itself. A stench, he'd never be able to loose, no matter how much he thought he helped them. He looked like a black and blue jinn, ready to curse your body out of existence. "Don't tell me all those weapons I brought to you, under great endeavor I might add, weren't useful?"

Death gritted his teeth. The point wasn't arguable.

"As I thought." Vulgrim straightened his body and crossed his arms over his chest. "Payment upon delivery." It was his only condition whatsoever. "And not the damaged ones." And here came the hook, you had to expect from a shady creature the likes of him, mooching off the battlefields of apparently every realm there was.

War and Death watched with dread as Danzig sealed the deal with receiving the rune to his arm, that Vulgrim liked to mark his contractors with. He rubbed his long, bony hands together, which was fairly more disturbing.

"Souls?" War asked testily, clenching and unclenching his huge gauntlet hand, as if he imagined to have Vulgrim's thin neck already in his tight grasp, crushing it happily. Vulgrim noticed too, ducking his head to protect said neck in an involuntary move. He knew the big red one was slightly more impulsive, than his cold, snarky brother.

"Of course. The only currency of value these days." Vulgrim replied matter of factly, wiggling in delight and making all his jewelry, adorning his entire body from horns to midriff in glittering gold and silver rings and necklaces, jingle as a soundtrack to anticipated disaster – of which the riders were sure to come off this.

"No." Though Death said it in his usual voice, the edge to it was already there. He wanted to lash out so badly.

Vulgrim let his face fall, and the mask of his, purely on business, innocuous niceness, which should not ever be taken for granted - or even for real.

His hiss was that of a vicious snake, or more like that of a malicious lindworm ready to bite the head of it's prey clean off, as he turned to Death who had stretched his thin streak of patience beyond it's usual threshold by far. He'd show the rider just what he thought of him, bursting into blue flames and ashes with the true face of a furious demon, towering over them, filling the room with darkness and despair. His voice was grinding down on their hearing and Danzig had to cover his ears with both his hands to not go mad from the tongue of demon speech in all his ghastly rage, which was, thankfully, still controlled and orchestrated enough to solely hit the rider, with it's additional spit and smoke for good measure.

"YOU HAVE NO SAY IN THIS DEAL! I HAVE DEALT WITH YOU BEFORE AND IT TOOK ME A LOT, ONLY TOLERATING YOU AND YOUR INSOLENCE BECAUSE OF THE NATURE O YOUR TASK! DON'T INTERFERE WITH ME AND MY TARDE OR YOU WILL REGRET THIS AND EVERY FUTURE GENERATION OF THIS WRETCHED PLACE! WITH THE COUNCIL GONE, THE RULES HAVE SHIFTED, THE RULES APPLY WHEN I DEEM THEM FIT AND NOT TO BE DICTATED BY THAT SCUM OR ANY REMAINING USELESS LAPDOG. AND MY RULES ARE THESE-"

He reverted back, holding his hands to his chest, as he saw Death falter at his outburst. He was not to be taken lightly. And he had to show just how much of threat he could be to them. As he addressed Danzig, his voice was as soft as he could manage the throaty rasp to disappear. "Payment on delivery, or execution of aforementioned task. Payment only in form of souls. Angel. Demon. Human. Take your pick. Souls delivered must be intact. Do you agree?"

Danzig heaved a sigh, inwardly already knowing, this was the seal to his ultimate fate. But nonetheless, he had thought long and hard and every other solution would take up time, they did not have. It was the only way. He nodded and shook the blackened hand of the creature, the rune flared up, burning his skin and leaving an unnatural scar in it's wake. "Deal." His voice sounded firm, but defeat settled on his heart. Should something ever happen, he would not return to where he came from.

War looked at Danzig with great sympathy and a weight on his own heart. "How many?" He purposefully spoke to Danzig, as if Vulgrim wasn't there with his sickening smug expression.

The demon trader let it slide. He had what he came for, all else was a mere inconvenience, he was used to and not bothered by. Also, the shock on both riders face on his outburst was worth even a few hassles more. He was pleased with himself and the way they needed his assistance, practically cementing his involvement and the opportunity to sort out his existence with the favor of the new council, he sure as hell knew, Danzig would have a say in upon assembly. What were a few condemned souls to the high angel in any case? The fate of the world did outweigh them by far. And they all knew this.

"As much as possible." Many would die, loose their life, if Danzig would be right on all accounts. And those souls wouldn't set forth on their journey to the Well of Souls but be stowed away in Vulgrim's possession to nurture his strength and who knows what else. The twins, and Nero too, did it with the souls of the defeated demons. But those few wouldn't bring an imbalance to the overall count. But the ones, who were now promised to Vulgrim? Danzig couldn't say. But the sheer amount of overall souls was staggering and above accountability. The Crowfather alone, who by now watched the ever-flowing stream of souls between death and rebirth, had not voiced his objection, when they had met briefly before Danzig had went to see Draven. So, he told himself, it wouldn't matter. They still could try to minimize bloodshed. And the fine print? Danzig had discussed it prior to this meeting, which would ensure the riders and his dear fosterlings Dante, Vergil and Nero would be excluded, just like Pesh's host and his siblings. And no one could kill Lucifer anyway. Plus, his soul belonged to Danzig in any case, whether they were aware of it or not.

The riders and Danzig shared a long hard look, which renewed the long friendship they shared. It wasn't disturbed by his haggling with the soul trader, nor would it ever be diminished, even if they were going agaisnt all odds. It was a cost that they still had a hand in and could determine the outcome. Vulgrim wasn't stupid, yet his greed was more prominent. And Danzig used it against him, within the limited count of options they had, to their best advantage. They could now use the demon's ability to traverse the realms without exception. The price, as steep as it would seem, wasn't set in stone, luckily, but they had to deal with his presence from now on. And Death still hated it with every ounce of his being, yet they trusted Danzig without remorse. He had changed the fate of the world once and he'd do it again. They would do it once more together.

* * *

Vergil had left. Al had run as well and Lucifer found himself alone with the rest of eyes glued to him.

Nero still tried to wrap his head around what had just happened, trying to process the given information from a logic, detached point of view, and failed miserably. There were secrets everywhere.

Dante sauntered over to his desk, ready to shoo Lucifer off and take the spot for himself, but Lucifer complied wordlessly, dusting off the seat and with a bow, offered it to a smirking Dante who plonked down unceremoniously. "Car's in the alley." He tossed the keys to Nero, who caught them with the saddest expression he could muster, Lucifer forgotten for the time being.

He jingled the keys to feel there was still a connection to the world, while his mind and body took turns in feeling disjointed once again. The soft jingling noises where the only noise and then there was heavy silence. Dante knew, Nero had a lot of questions. A hell a lot of questions, clouding his mind and his judgmental ability.

Nero had tightened the grip on the car keys until the tip stung into his palm, for the nonchalance with which Dante disregarded his stare was off putting, to say the least. Nero tried to get a grip, that was for sure and the pain of stinging keys into his palm helped gradually, or so he thought it would. His bringer still had a tight grip onto something fleshy until he realized it was Devon's hand. And as he managed to look, he saw how disturbed she looked, not at him, but at the creature now leaning against the desk next to Dante.

No one spoke. The oppression was still evident though, for Lucifer didn't return the woman's stare but had his feverish eyes glued onto Dante, who dodged them altogether by viewing a magazine, that still laid open on the desk. Truth be told, Dante didn't know what to say to Nero. They never had spoken about Vergil's actions in depth. You didnt talk about Vergil, when Vergil didn't want you to. Especially when it came to Al and Temen-ni-gru.

Nero sighed in defeat, playing passive aggressive. "If that's how it is..." Dante still didn't react.

All Dante felt was shame on behalf of his brother, who indeed wasn't all too proud of his actions either and the incident of the demon tower. That much Dante knew, though what truly was going on inside Vergil's heart and head, even his brother couldn't entirely unfurl to make sense outside Vergil's head.

Nero let go of Devon's hand, who was still frightened to let go, but reluctantly let him pull away nonetheless. They parted like lover's lost, or so it was how Lucifer at least saw it. The connection severed upon loosing contact to one another. He could be fooled, but there was something going on and he would have known, even without having to witness that cuddling episode or the way this awesome triangle tried to protect each other mere moments before Vergil interrupted their happy bonding moment all over everyone.

Nero wanted to get out. Now. "Don't you trust me?" He turned one last time trying to stay, if he got an answer worthy of him, as he reached the door.

"It's not a question of trust, Nero. It has nothing to do with me. That's all Vergil. I am not at liberty-"

"Liberty my ass!" Nero scoffed, snapping like twig, he couldn't control that bubbling anger and was tired of trying. "Since when do you care about being decent?"

Lucifer looked back and forth like watching a tennis match, that just got interesting. "Ouch," he said, squinting his eyes at Nero's low blow. He crossed his arms over his chest with a smug look on his face as Dante heaved a sigh.

"Shut it," Dante snapped at him, before focusing back on Nero. "I do. I didn't tell Vergil about your condition. I never brought anything up, that would severely compromise the other. I know my share, that's right. I was there. I was with Vergil until he decided what was best all by himself. And I still give him much courtesy. And I give you as well, even if everything you both do is stupid. But, I can handle it by myself. Always have. Always will. I don't rely on either of you. So, stop relying on me. If you want answers, go talk to him. I'm through with it."

Lucifer's eyes went wide. Dante certainly HAD changed. Not only on the outside. Was he bitter? Who could have seen that coming? Though right now, Dante was not just bitter, but mad. He could feel the desk slightly shaking under the brimming ferocity underneath the devil hunter's hard skin.

And this Nero? He was as fiery as they come, as well, but inexperienced still. He was so heartwrenchingly clueless, Lucifer almost fell in love with him right there and then. So innocent, but a darkness inside, that was more than intoxicating, making this mix more bitter and sickly sweet than the perfectly balanced treat, that was Dante. Plus, Nero fought this lurking darkness with every fiber of his unnatural being. Lucifer didn't even realize his slight involuntary shift towards the younger version of the hybrids, when Dante grabbed the wrist, Lucifer was leaning on, after he had unfurled his crossed arms. "Touch him and I'll rip your throat out." It was delivered so calm, silent and deadly, Nero didn't even probably hear, and if he did, he didn't show.

On the contrary, he stomped out of the door in Al's wake. And unknowingly in Vergil's path too, who had left the building unbeknownst to them all as of now.

Dante huffed. Lucifer gave him a compassionate look and a sigh. "I may have come at the wrong time."

"I highly doubt, you ever come at the wrong time." Dante put emphasis on 'come' by adding quotation marks with his fingers, before turning his attention back to his magazine.

Lucifer put his hand between Dante and the page, wriggling his fingers obscenely. "Oh so true. May I interest you in a tiny demonstration?" His voice left no room for interpretation, smooth as honey and even sweeter than that. They both knew, what page he was on. "Don't bother. But Danzig is on his way back by now, I reckon. Try him."

Lucifer's shoulders slumped down in mock defeat. "That party pooper doesn't know or recognize a good demonstration, even if it slaps him across his wrinkly mug."

"I would reconsider that wrinkly mug. He is quite handsome underneath it all."

Lucifer shot up from his spot, hands flying to his mouth, his narrowing eyes telling Dante, he was grinning madly, even giggling. "You saw it?"

"Yup."

"Isn't he gorgeous?"

Dante only nodded in bewilderment. He knew, Lucifer was putting on yet another show, which was still hilarious, but also uncanny, for Dante wasn't sure anymore, if he merely acted or meant it - probably a mix of both. "Are you going all fangirl on me?" Dante was in absolute disbelief, as Lucifer had the audacity to nod. "I haven't seen that face, since I was kicked out." And here Lucifer turned completely serious again. His kaleidoscope of expressions coming to a full stop.

"So you knew all along?" Dante concluded, not bothering to feign surprise. Or hurt. Lucifer didn't owe him anything. Not even an answer. Fuck, when had Dante become so tired of everything? He didn't know and pushed the thought back at once.

"I did. He made me promise to not spill."

Dante waved him off. "No explanation needed."

"I still want to give it." Lucifer continued with that seriousness, Dante didn't take as fake, but wasn't also inclined to give him credit for.

"I figured the reason out, I guess."

"That he wanted to protect you?" It was rhetorical, for Danzig could be easily figured out by both of them, who knew him long enough. "Yes, that's the one."

Dante nodded to himself. He didn't feel bitter or deceived. It was something Danzig thought to be necessary. And it was fine. It didn't change anything. "You're here for him too, are you not?"

Lucifer gave yet another of those well practiced, handsome smile. There was no use in denying it either. And with Dante, he also knew, it wouldn't do harm to be honest. "Indeed."

"That's fine by me. Make yourself at home." Dante invited him with another shrug into his house. The more the merrier, right?

"How generous. Thanks."

"Yeah, that's how I am, though some take it for granted." Dante couldn't refrain from the sour look, that accompanied the statement.

"They'll come around, I'm sure." Lucifer felt the strange sensation to somehow, awkwardly, comfort the hunter and at the same time had the unpleasant urge to scrape his tongue off this ghastly taste of nice words, which clearly weren't needed at all, by dragging it along the pavement outside until it would taste solely of piss, gasoline and various shades of dirt.

"I know. Oh, and one more thing." Dante beckoned Lucifer over with his suddenly sultry voice, that caught Lucifer off guard, as much as the wiggled index finger. He came closer. Face to face they stared at one another. Dante still in his seated position, with Lucifer bent and hovering over him, both hands gripping the armrests either side of Dante, wearing his most charming smile.

If Lucifer would stick his tongue out, he'd be able to taste the lips of the handsome devil hunter. But he didn't. Instead he stared into those beautiful blue eyes for a little while longer, dragging the thrilling anticipation out for as long as Dante would allow it. He could feel his heart beating in his chest and it sent pleasant jolts through him. Dante's smile was gentle, sweet and very genuine.

He could practically hear the imaginary masses chant: Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

Oh, Lucifer wanted to. And it took his all to not mount Dante and take what was rightfully his. A writhing perfect hybrid right between the legs of a true, fully fledged devil lord. Lucifer could almost feel his horns sprouting, much like other...things.

Their faces hovered in front of each other, breaths mingling like smoke and embers from a blackened chimney into a quiet, clear starry night. It was mesmerizing on both ends. Dante raked his fingers through his hair, pulling it back, so he could deliver the look of utter determination without having his bangs to interfere with it.

"If you ever pull a stunt like that again or try to pit two of my most favorite people in this world against me and each other, I'm gonna rip you apart bit by bit, even if we both die. Are we clear?"

Lucifer pulled back immediately, much like a bent spring bouncing back to default posture, standing straight and erect with curious attention. Not how he would have predicted this. Not that he didn't like this Dante either. So, commanding, for lack of a better word. " As clear as your skin." He grinned obnoxiously, still, but also meant it. He wouldn't like to die. And he would hate to drag Dante down with him.

"Good. And thanks. I know, I have great skin, but it's nice hearing it, once in a while." He ruffled his hair before letting it fall back down into it's designated place, like all over his eyes for instance. Channeling his inner Vergil was fun sometimes and certainly did the trick.

"You two are the strangest persons I have ever met." Devon piped up from her spot, where she still stood rooted, since Nero had left. She and Pesh had silently observed the exchange, getting more scarred for life by the second and finally coming around to know, that with all the menace, which was just a demon thing they wouldn't understand, where indeed also two big dorks. Though Dante's threatening comment had made her shiver in all the wrong places. Ice cold and deadly had he sounded. Not like him at all. The other one was like a too hot and too cold shower. No matter what, the stark contrast of temperature ( aka his demeanor) hurt either way.

"Oh, you're still there? Sorry, Dev. Really sorry."

Devon cocked her head and Lucifer kind of mimicked her, loopsided grin back in place and ready to charm her off her feet, despite the scene she just had to witness, while having been glued to the spot by such raw display of alpha demon power. Dante warned him yet again: "Off limits, too." Lucifer sighed, lowering his head. "Shame."

Devon had just been happy, she didn't throw up this time, but that had all been Pesh, who knew, they just having friendly banter more or less, despite Dante's flawlessly delivered warning, which Lucifer understood all too well. And Pesh knew, if he wanted to harm anyone, he would have done so. But, he wouldn't do that to Danzig. However Pesh kept silent about this, as obvious as it already was. Their bond was so much deeper, than they made it to be. Even if Lucifer admitted, he would aid Danzig, the reason was more than just going way back.

"It's fine. I'm fine."

"You're shaking." Dante laughed to diffuse the last bit of tension, as he stood up and walked towards her. Lucifer's presence had left some kind of impact. Or was it his own spikes of demonic power? He rubbed her shoulders and upper arms, hoping the shaking would subside. "Pesh? Okay, too?"

Devon nodded, eye flashing golden for a moment, before she attempted a weak smile, knowing Pesh was happy about being addressed individually. "He's just as fine."

"But he wants to look for Nero."

Pesh heavily objected. She wanted to look for him, using the angel as excuse, not wanting to outright admit it to Dante. Pesh would need to help, the moment she stepped outside. He hoped, Dante wouldn't let her.

Dante didn't even notice until now, but by marching into the kitchen with Devon in tow, he verified by looking outside the window, the car was very much not there, as in gone. Should have known.

"Do you know, where he is?" Dante still peeled the curtains back to take another gander, searching the alley, which had the same outcome. Nero and car: gone.

"He can feel it."

"Why do I feel like in a deja vu? Oh, please, not this car too."

"Everything is fine. He's just driving angry. Maybe even looking for Vergil."

It hit Dante like a brick to the back of his head. Dammit. "Gone too. Should have realized sooner. But, it's already a given. And to be honest, I'm not worried for Vergil. He can look out for himself. But Nero..."

"He is emotional." Devon concluded and didn't have to clarify further. He'd be more likely to listen to his anger than Vergil and act on impulse.

Dante clicked his tongue with furrowed brows. "Yeah..." He then went back into the living room with Devon still following him, until he went up and down, deciding on what to do. Devon waited for him, patiently, n the side line.

"What about Al?" He snapped his fingers at her. "Pesh says, she's going to find his other siblings. Highly likely, they also meet up with Danzig. They practically gravitate towards each other...because of the...call...?" Devon looked clueless and relayed the message from inside her head in a questioning voice, while trying to figure out what she just repeated from Pesh.

"Yeah, I get it. So, no worries there. They'll come here, right?"

Devon nodded with Pesh saying yes to Dante's question. "We are both worried about Nero, let me and Pesh look for him."

No, you're smitten, Pesh corrected and Devon would have gladly punched herself in the face, if she knew Pesh could feel it. But that was not the case. All she could do was hiss a "Shut up." at him in her own mind. But he wouldn't listen to that either.

"Also, it was his and Vergil's turn to scour the city and look out for any more angel hordes."

"I am more than capable of dealing with that." Dante and Devon both twirled around to regard Lucifer with questioning looks. His expression wasn't pleased with this level of astonishment. "Hey, I said, I'll help. So, I'll help. What do I look for?"

"Angels. And their way into this world. We don't know, how the manage it just yet." Dante informed him, giving in, but not without perplexed side glances over at Devon. Who would have thought this would happen?

"Would you please stop it with the conceived look? I helped you before, didn't I?"

Dante scratched his chin, pondering for a moment, while Lucifer waited, getting eagerly unnerved by the second. Dante regarded him with eyes, he couldn't quite figure out. Something between understanding and gratitude. "You did. Not without threatening to devour us-"

Lucifer groaned. "Details, Dante, details. The only important thing is, I didn't. And we won."

Dante pointed his thump over his shoulders at the door. "I'm not nitpicking. All right, go."

Lucifer bowed his head and when it came up again, his face contorted into a satisfied, wide mouth between grin and snarl. "They won't even know, what hit them."

Devon once again shivered at the sudden impact of sheer malice in those eyes of his and huffed slightly relieved as he teleported away. A feat, she only ever saw from Vergil before. "Don't tell me he is family as well."

"Why would y-" He was stumped by this until.. "Oh, the teleporting thing? No, no. Many can do this. It just takes a lot of effort to master, which I never felt investing."

"So who is he?"

Once more, Dante looked stunned. "Pesh didn't say?"

"He said it was complicated."

Dante just laughed at her. "Might be. But, to put it simple, he is what you call the devil. But it's actually just a term used for every sentient demon of higher class. Lucifer is actually THE devil. He ruled Hell. He is THE Lucifer. The fallen one. The first King of Hell."

Devon too laughed, because she believed him and it still sounded ridiculous. "Him?" She pointed at the door, Lucifer had exited a few minutes prior. Dante grinned back. "Yes."

Devon grinned wider than before. "This was THE devil? Devil of devils. Ruler of devils?"

The disturbing grin contest carried on until both believed their faces would break or at least cramp from that much grinning. Dante nodded fiercely, looking even dumber than he felt. "Yes. Horned Almighty. Lucifer. First Devil."

"You're serious." Devon massaged her cheeks, wiping that grin off her face.

Dante slapped his cheeks to get some feeling back into them and to get rid off the sensation of forcing a grin way over it expiration date. His face hurt. "Yes."

"Nooo..."

"It's fine. He's not that bad. But, still don't talk to him, when no one is around. Meaning me. Got it? He is true to his nature. A downright asshole. And he loves to mess with people."

Devon nodded. No way in hell (hahaha, funny) would she want to ever be alone with that one. "Got it."


	17. Chapter 17

Into the Unknown

* * *

"So, just walk out on me. I don't care." Dante put his hands on his hip, while he blew a raspberry to no one in particular - for Pesh and Devon, changing into Pesh's form, just had left the building. He told the golden boy to be careful and hoped he had learned his lesson from the fight before. And he had the impression the angel actually did, his face had told him everything would be alright. And for once, Dante had felt the comfort he secretly needed. Pesh was reassuring and it Dante's weighted shoulders had felt a small ounce lighter. Yet, it wasn't too surprising, knowing where the angel came from and who his older brother was. In a way, Pesh reminded him of the old man Danzig and he could easily picture his mentor to once having been like Pesh. But the years that lasted on his mind were something the angel yet had face, to become cranky and somber like Danzig.

Dante sighed long and over dramatically, again, to no one, before his head hung low and lolled from one side to another. He heard his neck crack and winced. Maybe he was indeed becoming old, though he wasn't, not even in human years. Yet, the draining tiredness never ceased to fade.

Dante clicked his tongue, shoving the thoughts violently aside and plopped down in his favorite spot, grabbing the magazine and briefly flicking through the pages. Unsatisfied, he threw it over his shoulder so it made a rustling flip and landed in the trash bin. He then crossed his arms, shifting on his butt to get comfortable, head falling to his right side.

He closed his eyes, focusing on nothing but his heartbeat and not the thoughts and worries raging in his mind. Sleep wouldn't come, nor did he need right now, but some peace and quiet, he always appreciated, before the next disaster would bounce through the door in a flurry.

Little did he know, that this eerily silent tornado of feathers was already on it's way.

* * *

 _Be careful_ , Dante had said. And Pesh intended to be. He wouldn't want to disappoint the already disappointed hybrid even more. The pain etched into his features was more than enough. For Danzig's sake, he would be careful. For Devon's. For his. His story only had begun, so he did not intend to leave early.

Lucifer.

Pesh couldn't get over it. What would Danzig say? Pesh sure had a lot questions regarding him. How in the world did he end up befriending Dante of all people?

 _Because he is a power addictive bastard, that's why._

Pesh vividly could remember how he always had scurried around Danzig, when they all still had been in the Creator's favor. How he had wanted to incite worry in their hearts. And sow doubt in their minds to carry out the scheme Lucifer had planned. And how Danzig had refused to heed his fear mongering. Pesh had always been wary of the first born and he had been proven right. He never understood what Danzig and Lucifer had found in each other to let such a deep friendship bloom. And even when the Heaven's became aware of Lucifer's schemes, Danzig stepped aside and let the course take it's flow. Lucifer never held it agaisnt him though. As he was cast out, Danzig though had changed. It truly had been the defining moment for him, now that Pesh thought of it. He had started to ask questions. Had started to think, reason and conclude on his own accord, dragging them all into the same unknown depth. Why were the things like they were?

Doubt settled in all their hearts. In his and his siblings' hearts. Yet, neither blamed Lucifer eventually. And then they did what they did. And the curse came down for them as well. Ironic. To an extent they could understand Lucifer, though they condemned his plans altogether still. Heaven was home after all. A home they all had cherished since they came into being. But was that love they felt woven into them? Did they feel it because they had to? Were they puppets on liver strings to do whatever they had been told to? After Lucifer had been gone, it was like a soft murmur and a deep shudder, which had shook them wide awake apparently. Danzig even more than the others.

Pesh had no doubt that the love he had for the fallen one was unmeasured to this day. And all it took was one question to rethink their existence. What Lucifer had sown, they had been reaping, willingly so, being tortured by their newly found mindset of how and why. The question one did not ask. And Pesh suddenly had started to abolish the idea of being there to serve, to know his place, to be what he had been. No more.

And this was his sin. When he had walked down the long white mile to the chambers of the Creator to plea for forgiveness, he hadn't meant a word. He just wanted to be free. And that was his curse, to never be.

Pesh's heart constricted painfully due to all the memories of home. Oh, he yearned to see the White City once more, but he wasn't going to pay any given price for it.

Pesh stopped dead in his tracks and his musings, hearing the roar of a machine down below in the emptied and dark streets. "Found ya."

He hurled himself from the roof tops to land on the thing they called car. It moved fast and this was no easy move to not loose his footing while Nero slammed the breaks. The car howled and screeched under Pesh's balancing feet, coming to a sudden stop that had him stagger multiple times, yet he stayed glued on top. He looked down, surprised to leave such a massive dent on the vehicles roof. "Oh."

"Are you out of your damn mind?!" Nero stumbled out of the car, almost on all fours, scrambling back to his usual height to point his glowing claw at Pesh, who was as equally astonished as him. "Why did you have to do that?" Nero demanded loudly, his voice echoing through the night. Wahtever onlookers they had attracted, surely scurried away at the aggressive voice.

Pesh hopped down, apologizing for not rightly accumulating the effect he would have on the car. Nero didn't have none of it.

"Lookatit!" Nero flailed his arms furiously. First at Pesh. Then at the car. Then back at Pesh, who looked completely clueless and dumbfounded. Nero groaned in frustration, rubbing his face and taking a few deep breaths to calm himself.

Pesh was indeed apologetic for a moment, looking down on his bare feet as he did so in a meek voice. "Sorry."

"Sorry really doesn't cut it, you idiot. Dante will have my head."

"He wanted it anyways." Pesh answered blatantly, not mincing his words for effect. A wry smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Nero groaned again, staring at the car. "I know."

"Besides, this was me. I'll make sure he'll know. There was really no other way to make you stop." Pesh simply shrugged.

Nero's head whipped around. "Plenty, you idiot." Yet, Nero features softened, seeing a remorseful look directed at him. He exhaled roughly, getting rid of the edgy tension in his voice to sound merely defeated. "Why'd you come out looking for me anyways? Dante really send you?" He continued in a much more collected state, knowing Pesh was still a clueless little shit. A little shit nonetheless though, but somehow, Nero wasn't mad at him and his strange soothing presence, which gave Nero a few small pointers, he needed to ease off. He was pissed beyond his usual amount but, admittedly, not at the angel. In fact, Nero didn't even know what he was doing, since he had been out of the door and revving up the engine to race along the streets of the city. He thought it would clear his head, which it - surprise - actually didn't.

"I- We decided it was not a good idea to have you to all alone." Pesh spilled deliberately.

"I just needed to get away from them." And Nero answered truthfully.

Pesh was puzzled, even with witnessing the interactions at the shop, he yet couldn't put the pieces together of the 'hows' and 'whys'. He was missing huge chunks, like apparently everyone, including Nero. And realization brightened his features. This was about the twins. "Why?"

"Because all they do is hide things from me."

Pesh put his finger under his chin, nodding in understanding, but didn't say anything, waiting for Nero to clarify his case. Maybe that's what this was all about that anyway?

"Listen..." Nero began slowly, clearly not knowing what he really was about to say, with Pesh's curios and open features observing his every subtle move and twitch of constraint muscle. "It's really nothing to bother you with. We have so much more bigger problems right now." Nero tried to deflect any inquiry from the silent angel before it would come, trying to divert and dodge it altogether. "I'll come home." He jabbed his thump at the car. "The car should be fine. And that was your mission, to bring me back before I cause trouble of some sort, right?"

Pesh inclined his head, reading Nero perfectly, his change in his pulse and his contradicting behavior to appear as calm as he could. Pesh gave him a weak smile, which told Nero, the angel didn't buy into it one bit.

Nero huffed, flaring his nostrils. "What is it?"

"You look like you're about to explode." Pesh chose his words carefully and delivered them placidly - with that smile still in place, yet his brows furrowed. At first there was no answer and Pesh even went so far as to close the small gap between them, tentatively reaching out and softly putting his hand onto Nero's shoulder.

And this small patronizing gesture was exactly what made Nero explode, the touch burned and it lit that short fuse on fire. Nero erupted without warning.

The way everyone was thinking him to be inferior, the one that needs constant petty reassurance, the boy that needed validation, but over the more, the thing he hated the most: pity. Be it true or false, it didn't matter. Just the reason it was there in those golden eyes, shining brightly with understanding, was enough to tick off all of the above until Nero felt the bitter bile rise at his own reminder of failure.

He pushed the hand off, face contorted between disgust and blatant fury and gave Pesh's arm a shove that needed no explanation: don't touch him ever again.

Nero didn't react well to touches, on the contrary, it made his maddening itch worse. Pesh's hand was way too warm. Too much comfort lay in those eyes. Nero wasn't Johnny, looking for someone to share his pain. He'd rather contain it and deal with it, when no one was looking. He'd fight alone. He had to, if he wanted to ever feel any worth again.

Pesh stood with his arms on his sides, motionless. Like a beautiful statue and so utterly out of place. His expression became neutral, when it should have been angry, or at least offended, about Nero's action. The last straw was long drawn, Nero was already brimming with anger, yet Pesh's unblinking acceptance of such a behavior had Nero yell out his innermost thoughts.

All the frustration, mounting up to a staggeringly high over the small amount of time he spent with Dante finally toppled. The secrets he and his ghost of a sibling had. Nero only learned bit by bit, piece by piece, mostly if he only managed to be in the right place at the right time, catching chunks of conversations behind closed doors, literal and metaphorical. He had to stitch things together, so they would make sense. Every question once asked was easily disregarded under the cloak of not needing to worry him in his critical state. And it pissed him off deeply to the amount of determination, that he too wouldn't need to bother to tell them every ounce of mishap and glimpse of emotion he had. And the trigger problem? Nero scoffed to himself. It was his matter to solve. And if the twins were so adamant about keeping appearances and boundaries, he wanted to make sure to set his own rules and play by those alone. He felt betrayed and that was the worst. It all came down to Fortuna and the way everyone seemed to play him like a fiddle, Dante included. He was given enough information to point him in the direction they all wanted and made him merely function. And Nero's thirsty heart drank it all up without hesitation. He knew, the Order was a lying dump of shitbags through and through, but as long as he had a place and goal – a mission – that would bring him closer to whatever he had been looking to find, he went through with it. Carried out his orders in the most obnoxious way possible - with still delivering the results they had wanted. Either party tolerated the other as necessary evil. But, oh boy, was the picture bigger than he had initially thought. It was a damn puzzle and the last piece had been Dante. Nero had been the odd one out, yet in the center of the incident was his counterfeit. He had laughed out so loud on that fateful day, when he discovered his true nature. When he had found Vergil's sword, he should have known to exist in the first place, he laughed like the idiot he had been made of. Deceit, lies and misconception around every fucking turn. Yeah, it had been a real knee slapper for him. He had been so smug about not believing anything and still he walked into it with eyes wide open and not seeing a damn thing. Now, who was to blame for that? Him, who couldn't fathom the Order to go ahead and sacrifice him and Kyrie for the Savior? A huge chunk of polished marble absorbing the soul of the demon and the virgin to become an angel? Nero walked into it deliberately and he was to blame, when he could have stopped it from the start, if he only had paid more attention. The Order knew exactly what they had been doing, with even luring Dante onto their trail in the first place.

And here he saw an actual angel with genuine empathy, that burned Nero alive and he couldn't have been more wrong in his entire life. The Order – no, Sanctus - mislead and deceived every single one of them. Sparda was no God, and the fucking ritual of fucking ascension sure didn't turn anyone into angels, like even Credo had believed. Goddammit, it hurt Nero so much to recap this story of disgrace in all it's cruel details, yet he couldn't stop. He hurled his story at the immobile Pesh, who stood like a honorific statue, resembling the ones Nero had seen and ignored on his every day errands throughout Fortuna. And it pissed him off even more, hurling his frustrations in strings of words at Pesh out of sheer desperation.

Kyrie...

Nero fell to his knees, out of breath and energy, too weakened to continue further. Unwilling to mention her, nor even think her name, for it stung so much more than anything. He let her die. Nero wouldn't face the lurking darkness in which he had buried her name and memories, which shone still bright enough to get through at times. Like right there and then, with those golden eyes observing him silently.

Nero didn't know, he had sunken down on his knees, limbs lifeless dangling from his frame, wet eyes squeezed shut and his face turned upwards, to not having to look any longer at the angel right before him. But when he did nonetheless, he was shocked to see him equally shedding silent tears.

Bitterness reached deep inside Pesh like hands, snaking around, looking for something to grab and tear at. He knew exactly the pain. The guilt of failure he carried so long in his sleeping form, haunting his dreams and conscience. Yet, for Pesh at least, it didn't seem so dark anymore, he was wide awake and, cursed or not, his siblings were here with him. And for Nero too, he could also see a little light, flickering like candles in the breeze that announced a violent storm, as he paced in his outburst and rage to walk around in frantic circles, cursing at the skies and empty streets.

Nero's own darkness was a living thing, which could expand and retreat, like a bulbous, sweltering coat of black and sticky tar around his heart, pulsing with different beats and thickened with the sickness that was guilt and hurt. And this evening, Pesh had seen it retreat, shrivel together only to expand in between and now it ripped open and had given up, puffing out it's poisonous cloud to the midnight air in form of Nero's outburst. Pesh just witnessed, how Nero's fractured heart was slowly healing indeed but, as any heavily scarred tissue, it still hurt a lot when the weathers shifted. Devon and Pesh had seen a different Nero tonight and a few times before, not this whiny and violent mess, but a genuine and soft pretty boy, who's innocence had been corrupted by events unknown. Pesh knew, he would like that Nero a lot. Devon already did.

Pesh wiped his face with the back of his hand and staggered forward, his own state no better than Nero's, knowing Devon had heard and seen it all through him. And when he walked up to Nero, he evaporated in his usual golden cloud, that shed enough light on the boy's face to gather the remnants of shimmering streaks of tears and to see his eyes widen a fraction, when the smoke cleared to reveal Devon, wrapping her arms around him as she sank down to his his level, engulfing Nero in the lingering echo of Pesh's warmth and light.

Nero sat back on his heels, eyes zoning out, still limp and mind too dull to register the firm hug Devon gave him, while placing her chin on his shoulder. Devon too cried, because of the unfiltered emotions Pesh had felt, and had let seep through to her - to feel, what Nero felt in this very moment.

Even though, or because, Nero didn't move an inch Devon hugged him even tighter, while silently crying, though she was determined to not let him see this. She just wanted to hold him for a while. A little longer, if it did do him any good, remembering how he had pushed Pesh away rather roughly.

Nero's arms tingled and moved on their own accord. He felt exhausted and tired, relishing in the embrace, for as long as his body would allow it, before hardening once more against any physical touch. It felt as if Pesh had weakened his outer shell, until it was molten, softened enough to let anything through for a brief moment.

Devon hiccuped into his shoulder, when she felt his arms around her frame, clinging to her as if he had been drowning. He heaved a long sigh, burying his face into her shoulder, and he could hear her exhale roughly. He almost knocked the breath out of her, but Devon could care less, because it felt so right to have each other in this crushing, yet assuring hug, that let them know, the other was there. Nero felt transported back onto his spot on the couch, where he had experienced that short blissful moment, which he had been equally ashamed and proud of. His messy feelings didn't let him pull back now either, determined to make him feel all and everything at once until his head spun.

Over the more he was stunned to find his murmur of a voice in this very moment. "Why are you crying?" It wasn't a reproach nor an accusation of why she did it, but more like a fearful, tentative inquiry.

"Because you are." Devon stated with a quiver in her own voice, which also translated into grabbing the fabric of his jacket and clawing at it in despair, afraid he would let go in the blink of an eye.

Nero's eyes shot open. The first thing he acknowledged was his brain spelling: awkward. Devon held clawed at his back, pulling him into her even more and he fought hard to not budge and fight it. He responded with hanging on for dear life just the same, to overcome his initial flight mechanism and let it subside, internally rummaging around his brain for a response to the revelation, of how much she must care, if she cried along with him.

As stupid as he felt, the more he became aware of the place they were in, the position and the silence surrounding them once more. Whenever they dared to get closer, he saw the world stop in it's tracks. It shouldn't matter – the place and the time. He felt the rough gravel of the road under his knees, he felt the softer fabric of her sweater, felt her hair on his forehead and on the bridge of his nose, felt the wetness on his cheeks as he pulled back reluctantly, his arms sliding up over her shoulders as he forced them both (himself more than her) to look at each other.

One deep breath sometimes was all it would take. One moment of courage, summoned from deep inside his fluttering stomach. One blink and it would be gone forever. And he sure as hell wouldn't miss it this time. He didn't dare to blink it away, though he felt like hurled away and falling overhead from a roller coaster ride and funny enough, never had he been clearer in his head than there and then.

Devon had no time to react. Her body was frozen in anticipation, when he stared into her eye with such knowing intent and focus, it made her insides churn, and not in a happy way. Her mind screamed no. Did Pesh scream too?

All was lost - her thoughts, her vision – merging into a blur of white and blue. Devon was all blinded as the anticipation painfully imploded. There was no conception left of anything, but instead her whole existence was painfully compressed and pulled towards only one spot.

Nero, for once in his life, didn't think. He bowed his head and crashed his lips onto Devon's, hard and harsh, starving and thirsting. He had never done this before and yet, he couldn't think about anything else. Just this one time, he would allow himself to let go. And he was selfish in this. He wanted it. No mistake there.

Devon had no answer to the deja vu, the recollection of how they had been in this situation before and how she never had allowed herself to think further. When Nero pressed his lips, his loosely closed mouth onto hers, her wishful thinking became real. And if she'd expect this to be life changing, it wasn't exactly that. Yet, it was completely. It was perfectly imperfect. Nero did nothing else, except of staying put. He did not think any further from this moment - nor did Devon, as she moved her lips subtly, coaxing him into a hefty respond.

Nero had acted on impulse, trapped like a deer in the headlights, as he didn't know what else to do. And now, he threw himself into it, quickly. Again harsh and touch depraved like a prisoner, who had given up to beg his jailer for the keys and had accepted his fate only to have the keys hurled at his dizzy head from somewhere out of the darkness around. A miracle.

Devon inclined her head, taking the lead, but Nero was the master still. His strong arms engulfed her, pulling her into him, onto him, needing her everywhere all at once. Devon cupped his face, directing the kiss, while he had the overall control over their bodies as to not let them crash into the dirt to an unpleasant and abrupt ending.

He wanted to concentrate on doing it right and memorizing her motions but failed miserably. This wasn't right, he was tense and afraid somehow. His thoughts jumbled into a big ball of icy threads, yet having Devon kiss him like this, it rolled into the back of his head, further and further. His instincts took over and his eyes fluttered close, loosing himself in the feeling of tongues touching and licking, the longer the kiss lasted.

His face felt hot, cheeks burning harshly and his heart was getting wrecked with small electric jolts surged through him. His nerve ends tingled wilder, his face seemed utterly flushed and the heat left a burning trail and had reached his ears. He was burning up and felt turned on. Urges kicked in he thought forgotten, feeling her chest pressed against his own.

Nero gave up on thinking rationally, instead he just went with his overwhelming need. He felt his blood boil, but couldn't keep it in check either. He was loosing himself in this, his instincts hurling intentions at him at the speed of light.

He had been kissed before, but not that ferociously. It felt much more sensual than anything else he had before, as their mouth moved urgently against each other, suckling and nibbling before plunging right back in.

He held her close in a crushing embrace, pressing her small body into his, needing to feel her. His heartbeat quickened even more, as she touched his neck and her hand snaked into his hair, slightly pulling tufts of his hair before raking through it down to the base of his neck, which made hum lowly in his chest.

This felt so much better as Devon had anticipated. Her lower abdomen felt on fire, boiling even. God, how she wanted this man. As if it had occurred to her just that second, the thought hit her like a freight train. The hum she heard from him was fuel to her inner fire. He felt so good. So strong. His arms held her tight and he had started to massage her hips, pressing her into him.

And his growing need.

His hands started to roam on her body, rubbing her back, then back to her hips, down to her behind, before his human hand slowly crept back to kneading her hip. Within the same motion he had grabbed the hem of her thick sweater to tear at it and hike it up.

And that was what actually woke her out of her stupor...

Intense.

Too intense.

Stop it.

 _Stop it!_ Was it her voice in her head? Was it Pesh's?

The fleeting moment of bliss turned. It went sour quickly, like milk curdling on a blistering hot day. Too much, too soon.

And as if she would have burned herself on a hot plate she coiled back out of his firm grasp and away from his beautiful face and remarkably soft lips. He looked confused first. Then hurt.

Just great.

"I'm sorry." Devon stuttered,though he actually instigated it. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm confused. Out of my damn mind actually." This was all Pesh's fault for letting her feel all of that. She blamed the angel and his abilities alone for this. She would have never done that without his meddling.

Nero was stunned into silence, while she stuttered on. "You're...you're so perfect... and I'm...not myself. I'm sorry..." Devon was slowly sobering up by the second, because of the shame she felt. She called him perfect, she realized with horror, her mind acting on it's own and it was true. To her he was.

"But, I wanted it, too." Nero helplessly wanted to argue, voice sounding as if he wanted to snap at her but held it back the last second, feeling hurt and dejected.

She didn't even listen as she slid her hands over her face in defeat. Yes, she wanted this. Wanted him. She'd never expected to meet anyone like him and certainly not be thrown into this kind of mess. And the worst, and what actually made her afraid, Devon didn't even know, if she would be here soon any more considering the curse of the angel. Whatever she felt, being ripped away from Nero like that, if she let herself go with it, would be the most painful thing she'd imagine. To be ripped away from all this, as dramatic as it sounded, made her feels so utterly afraid and stunned her into doing nothing, only leaving the most considerate option: to tell herself she wouldn't let it evolve only to see it gone.

It was settled. Inside, Pesh was silent. "No. No, you don't." Determined, she turned away form him. "I don't." It was like a guillotine, severing anything, that had bubbled up. No tangles left, clean cut, spewing blood and left to die and rot inside her.

Nero stood there with clenched fists at his side, staring at her, his eyes and bringer glowing alike.

Wow. He did not expect this outcome. He finally found that one kernel of bravery and it got swept away in a storm.

And all she could think of was how magnificent he looked, seething with sudden anger. Nero decorated his face with a defiant stare.

But before he could say anything else Devon beat him to it, not wanting to hear anything that would make her weak. "Just forget it happened." She stated as she motioned to the car, unmistakably telling him to go home. Which was cold thing to do and Pesh inside silently begged to not ruin, what he just had accomplished. Even though it had been close to escalate in a matter Pesh didn't quite fully understand, he didn't want this small accomplishment not go to waste. He had felt bad for initially feeling Devon that Nero was off limits and now that he had seen into his heart, Devon was the one to turn the tables on this small victory. Pesh felt sorry for Nero, who had wordlessly turned around.

He got in the car without a last look, then he slammed the door shut and left them both t find their own way home.

Devon stared after him, hoping he was going home still, yet she'd rather not want to check. Great. Now this wouldn't get awkward from here on, she thought bitterly. Damn her. Damn her and these stupid feelings. Traitor. Well, if he was pissed at her that was ever the better. She could deal with pissed. Better that, than hurt.

When Nero slammed the brakes a few minutes later to catch his breath and his mounting anger, he leaned against the wheel, after he rubbed his face. What the hell had happened...? He banged his head three times against the steering wheel until his head was humming, than slammed it with his human hand and additionally kicked the console. Damn it all! Of al things, this sure as heel wasn't something he needed added to his shit list. What the hell was that damn girl thinking after all? He had absolutely no clue, that was the simple truth and all there was.

As he rested his head against the wheel, he made her strangled noise in the back of his throat, as he muttered lowly: "Forget..." He scoffed, how could he forget...?

He'd rather return home and brood about it in the warmth, though that would mean he had to deal with the twins. But that sounded so much more than having to suffer from his rejection by Devon. It would certainly keep him occupied from reliving that kiss over and over. And over again.

"You're a coward."

Devon didn't reply.

"And you are a poor liar." Pesh poked further, yet was rewarded with more silence.

"Tell me why." Pesh stayed persistent, his voice firm.

Devon rejected him and Nero altogether, feet moving onward, determined yet with no clear sense of direction. Inside her head, Pesh was nagging and begging. And it pissed Devon off.

Eyes forward, chin up, she tried to locate where the hell they were and by looking at the moon and seeing that silhouette of the ghastly tower still a long ways ahead, she turned on her heels and marched the opposite direction, then tried to keep it on her left shoulder to walk back.

"I could carry us home in no time." Pesh drawled after seeing her struggle for minutes to find her way in the dark and with pricked ears, to evade any trouble that might lurk around. Pesh wasn't helping from the inside and she didn't feel like letting him out either.

"You want me to shut up." Pesh didn't ask, but merely concluded by plucking it directly from her messy thoughts. Devon sighed at his. There was no way to hide anything from the angel. And it was terrifying right now.

Of course she thought about Nero the whole time. How afraid she was and how little she wanted him to get hurt in any way possible. All the things he had to endure already. And Pesh heard the cataclysm of thoughts inside, the rampaging tides of what ifs and what nows, that cascaded into the abyss in her mind. Fear. Like salty sea air he could smell and taste it on the tip of his tongue. Like turned water with a sour note.

Pesh didn't think she would recoil. He knew Nero wouldn't, after Pesh had provoked him. The demon boy had been exhausted and consumed by it. Pesh had just known, he'd finally be brave enough to do something. And Pesh had failed by focusing so much on him and had forgotten to turn around and look at Devon. He did not see it coming, that she would suddenly doubt everything. Out of fear no less.

Pesh should have seen it coming they way she was afraid to loose her life to the curse. And here, Pesh finally scolded himself harshly. He had so much insight, yet still had messed up royally. His nature simply had deceived his mind. He really should stop meddling in other things lives. Good intention in all good will, but he still had a thing or two to learn about humans. Or demons. He assumed Dante would be his go-to guy, if Danzig didn't return sooner or later. Yet Pesh certainly didn't want to bother him more, than he should. Danzig was doing great things behind their backs and Pesh figured, he wanted it to be this way. His secrecy never failed to amaze Pesh and he hadn't changed about that one bit.

"Please let me take over." Pesh begged weakly for one last time and Devon firmly told him "No". At least she spoke, with bitterness of regret, but he took it. She partly blamed him too for the slip up, he knew, and thus eventually relented. The way they walked would lead them back, she was calming down and it was good thing, her senses finally caught up and chose the right direction. Though it would be a pretty long walk.

And the sky looked like it was about to pour. Again.

* * *

Vergil escaped with his skin intact and his mind in shambles. Insanity clawed at his skull, crying harshly to be freed. That uncanny anger reared it's ugly head and he wished he could just follow Lucifer, when he left he building, sauntering off without a care in the would or so it would seem.

Vergil had perched a good distance on a pike of one of the many older houses, adorned in their Gothic adornements, the city was so famous for. Shortly after that, he saw Pesh in all his glory leave the vicinity too. The bastard was fast as ever and with his comet tail of light he raced off the direction Nero had taken. Vergil assumed he was sent after him by Dante, or Devon. Or both. Vergil wasn't the least concerned about them. Pesh knew how to stand his ground, even if he showed particular gaps in good judgment. Yet Vergil doubted, that trouble would find him, before he found Nero. He was too fast for that. It was admirable. He really looked like a small shootign star from afar, who had come down to earth to race the foul winds of the city and leave them behind.

One last glance at the now empty house, save for Dante, who's heartbeat was dull and sad, Vergil turned his head and fled further towards the inner city. He didn't want to get even more gloomy with Dante's sunken heart adding to his own grief. The notion to intensify pain had always been a feat between them he particularily despised.

So Vergil wandered the streets to find other company. He took the route to Danzig's home, hoping to find out, if things were good on his end and to inform him of his unleashed _pet_. Vergil sneered involuntarily at the thought. Of all people, Lucifer gravitated towards Danzig like a moth to the flame, which Vergil found hilarious. Freedom, his sorry ass. Just like himself, they both where bound to their significant other, whether they knew it or not. Though Vergil could at least comfort himself with the knowledge, that the spell that bound him to Dante could be broken under certain circumstances. Lucifer though was bound by somethign entirely different.

Vergil didn't need to look long to encounter Danzig and the riders on their way back to the shop. Danzig waved at him a single time to greet his dark silhouette from afar. Vergil teleported to fall in line right beside him. Danzig didn't even miss a step, when Vergil teleported right between them. Death on the other hand told him to cut it out and War simply grunted.

"Came to pick up us up? You weren't worried, were you?" War was the one to question him, strangely enough, and not Danzig.

"Just going for a walk," Vergil replied sneakily.

It didn't take Vergil long to sense the tension. Danzig was awfully quiet, not even questioning Vergil's blatant lie. Vergil glanced at the riders, yet only Death returned his gaze, burning with unspoken warning. What did the old man do this time? What was he up to and why did no one feel like clarifying the heavy silence?

"What's wrong?" Vergil finally swallowed his pride and asked, even though he hated to ask, when no one wanted to talk of their own accord. He had forgotten all about Lucifer the moment, he saw Danzig. This gloomy expression set off every single alarm in his head.

Yet, Danzig only smiled weakly. "My boy. It's nothing." The old man was as bad as Nero at this. They couldn't lie, if their life depended on it. Vergil could smell their bullshit 100 miles against the wind. What Danzig really meant was 'nothing to concern you with' and the blue twin squared his jaw and bristled at the possibility, the riders where in thid with him and Vergil was not.

He was about to make a good awful scene, about the secrecy Danzig displayed, when he got interrupted mid inhale to voice out his stingy discontent with the overall situation, Two things happened at once.

Death broke into a sprint from next to nothing to booming away like a mad horse, War sighed as he fell into a heavy booted trot, knowing full well he couldn't keep up and yet still had to try nonetheless. Vergil blinked, looking baffled, as the nephilim brothers raced off. "What the hell..?"

Danzig held his shoulder, holding him back altogether. "It's fine."

And from afar Death confirmed it, as he stopped dead on a corner, War arriving many seconds later. He heard mad cackling in the distance and something like a gunshot, but it wasn't one. His brain failed to file the noise at first, but one heartbeat later his eyes widened. It was the sound of a whip.

"The other two have arrived." Danzig said soothingly, as they closed the short distance to see for themselves. And low and behold, a woman with a whip at her side and fiery hair that seemed to defy gravitation, moving around like a licking flame, stood in the middle of the street, having come from around the corner presumably.

A large and lanky male accompanied her, his steel mask, similar to the one Death had once donned, covered his face. Yet his voice sounded cranky and energetic, greeting his oldest brother in an obnoxious way. "Howdy, old wrinkle face. How's it going?"

The red head was much more sophisticated, but not much less arrogance in her voice, than her brother. "Hello, brothers. I hope you missed us?"

Death didn't waste time with a proper greeting, no one expected of him anyway. "Have you succeeded?"

"Indeed." And with that Vergil and Danzig had come to stand a few feet away, receiving both odd looks, as to why they where standing there.

"Pardon me, who are you?" The red head asked Vergil with a now much more velvety voice, that sounded as if she wanted to either eat him or accompany him to his bedroom. He'd appreciated it, if it was neither. Death looked at his sister funnily, for she seemed very pleased.

"Oh, no. Really?" The one with the mask made a disgusted noise at her, exasperated to a funny degree, while pointing at Vergil, who clearly caught his sisters interest. "He's tiny!"

Vergil objected in his head. He wasn't.

"And he smells."

He did NOT smell.

"And he...has white hair?"

"It would complement mine perfectly."

"Is that _Dante_?"

Now Vergil had enough, showing discontent with his flared nostrils and all. "I am not Dante." Danzig only chuckled next to him. This was rather priceless. He wished the others could see this exchange.

War cleared his throat, awkwardly. "It seems introductions are in order. The woman is our dear sister, Fury. And the loud one is Strife, our brother."

Fury shoved Strife out of the way rather harshly, stretching her hand out to Vergil, who shifted his stance, ready to defend himself. You never knew with these riders in any case. "You must be Vergil. Charmed to meet you."

Vergil stared at her hand, which would easily swallow his whole head and somehow he believed, shaking it would prove rather painful. Her glove was littered with spikes to boot. The woman tutted at him, as he didn't move, his face distorted with a look of suspicion and revolt. "Fine, darling. Have it your way." Her deep luscious voice was accompanied by a tilted head, making her read hair swivel again like a hungry flame.

Strife didn't move, yet held his hand up. "Hey, buddy." He didn't sound to friendly, but kept himself in check.

If possible, Vergil looked even more disgusted at this carbon copy - behavior wise - of snarky Nero.

"Yeah, definitely not charmed either." Strife concluded from his opposites demeanor, who refused to greet back, much less even reply. "What a prick." Strife happily insulted him neatly, muttering under his breath.

"What did you say?" Vergil's voice was sharp, cutting through the night with a hint of warning.

Before either temper started flying, and Death knew both had one to keep his eyes on, he threw Strife a warning look and so did Danzig with Vergil. Like herding kids, it felt. And Death had no mind for this kind of shenanigans.

"On our way then." Danzig announced nonchalntly, as he snapped his fingers, feeling as if he was amidst a classic movie Mexican standoff. This would prove very difficult to keep all of those rather strong personalities in check.

"Where're we going?" Strife asked eagerly, also still happy to meet the one and only Dante, who, from the tales War told him, was more than intriguing. An interesting character, he really liked to meet in the flesh. Also a fellow gun user. Strife liked guns, evident of the two enormous revolvers he had either side of his bony hip, which he so aptly called Mercy and Redemption.

"To Dante's place. You'll meet him in no time." Danzig assured Strife, pleasing him effortlessly, and he gave War a smug look, who only grinned back. War knew Strife was dying to do so.

There was a minor slip up in Vergil's face. A furrowed brow, his mouth a thin line, indicator of an inner struggle. Vergil looked towards the sky. No one had felt it apparently, only him, by the curious look Danzig gave him. "What's wrong?"

Vergil's eyes widened uncharacteristically – and Danzig understood. _Fear._

"Move!" Vergil enforced the group and lead the way, teleporting ahead to the ledge of roof up above by the far end of the street.

"Ready yourselves," Death instructed his siblings, unnecessarily so, before they raced after the blue twin.

Danzig was immediately next to Vergil, side eyeing him in a strange fashion, as they drove forward with what given speed they had, though Vergil was the pike of this spearhead formation.

He looked back at Danzig, not knowing how to spill the information, he still held in care. But thinking about it right now, wouldn't prove useful and he cursed at the riders for deflecting him earlier to deliver his spite in the most staged fashion, like everyone would have expected from him.

"You know, that Lucifer has come to the city?" Vergil finally informed him, timing worse but better late than never.

Danzig's face didn't mirror the sheer shock, he felt surging through him from head to toe. Also Vergil's annoying stoic delivery made him bristle at the half devil.

"And you're telling me this because?" Danzig was also a master of emotionless banter, if he wanted to be. Unreadable.

"He had Al with him."

Which was good news no less, but Vergil sounded as bitter as expected and his next powerful leap translated the spite he held for the demon lord. And Danzig guessed the reason why spot on, though he decided to remain silent. Vergil's cold hearted rage was unmatched. He'd rather have it use him on the enemy, than to throw sharp accusations his way. Did Danzig know of their journeys together, that was the question burning in Vergil's glowing blue eyes. Hatred and malice towards Lucifer, for reasons even Danzig didn't know to full extent, for Vergil guarded his motivations like a dragon his hoard – fiercely and without compromise.

Death exchanged a few glances with Fury and Strife. So, they had found Lucifer and send him straight to Dante? Intentionally? Death gritted his teeth, while Strife shrugged at him, reading he reproach clearly off his brother's face. They had accomplished their mission, to which Death had sent them out. To find the old devil and bring him here. Death had never clarified the conditions and Strife expertly had used the loophole to rid him and Fury of the infuriating idiot as fast as they could. Funny, how one could mention Dante and trouble in one sentence and Lucifer was off like a hurricane of bad breath and fabulous hair. Strife couldn't hold the snicker in at that thought, while Death grumbled at him.

He remembered all too well the underlying tension twenty years back, when they had to joined forces, after the incident with his guarded vault of weapons and the crisis that ensued on earth and the events that seemed to stem from it and sprawl out afterwards. They had altered the lives of thousands and most of all, the twins. Though he had already surmised this, when meeting them for the first time, that their rivalry would find it's bloody peak one day. With one left alive and one left for dead. They had reminded him of his younger days with his siblings and the frictions among them, which came naturally with four so strong willed and skilled warriors, each catering to their own code and beliefs. He was glad they made it past the mistakes and rivalry to evolve together to become one - and stronger than any other creature under the Council's unruly reign. He wished for Dante and Vergil to do the same, to unite and stand back to back. He'd praise the day, should they all live that long.

Right now, it didn't seem that way.

If he didn't know it better, he would have thought Vergil's speed drew it's rampage from deep rooted fear. Death could smell fear like the hell hound could smell the intoxicating sweetness of human blood.

* * *

Devon didn't know how long had passed, but they also didn't seem to have moved forward. Everything looked the same gray and black in the middle of a moonless night and Devon's feet dragged over the pavement in monotonous scraping noises, that would grind down on Pesh's already inflamed nerves.

This was beginning to become a true nightmare. Not that it was before, if she really looked close enough, but this thing with Nero - how could she have seen it coming? Pesh was okay, she could take that and try to cope with every last sliver of hope, that there was, though fear had always swirled in the back of her mind. And Dante had been a grand beam of light, where anything else had been dull and dark - an endless emotionless trot along cracked pavements, like in this very moment. It threw her back many feet.

Devon stopped dead and fell on her butt, hands clutching the dirt on the ground, shaking her low hanging head, as to chase the murky darkness in her head away.

And as if the cursed city had it's liking for dramatic displays of any kind, it started to pour. A downpour to freeze her sweaty frame. She was exhausted. How would she make it home any way?

Home.

 _Hah._

Where Nero waited, so they could ignore each other. What little they had built up, she had teared it down singlehandedly, obliterating it with stupidity and fear like a sledgehammer to brittle stone.

If Dante hadn't found her, this would have never happened. But that was unfair, and Devon damn well knew this. He was the last one to blame, really.

Yet she still would have the sleeping angel inside her. His soul wrenched into her mind with no hope to be found. No, to wish for this wasn't right. Pesh did nothing wrong to her, either. On the whole contrary, he saved her. He saved Nero, too, just because he had already known what she was feeling. She didn't want to think about it, if Nero had encountered the enemy alone at any point. In her mind, she saw him. She saw him bleed out. And if he could bleed, he could die - demon by a fracture or not.

Devon spilled silent tears over the thought. The heart that beat in her chest grew frantic, just by thinking his name, and her guts twisted painfully - so much, she didn't know if she would ever find the strength to stand up

Messy. It was all so abhorrently messy.

Inside her head, Pesh tried to claw his way out, through this exact mess of thoughts and feelings, which made him choke on the intensity. Devon was drowning in self pity and self doubt over it all.

But he would be damn twice, if he'd let that happen now. Something stirred over the city and Pesh became afraid, and not without reason. "What are you doing?" His voice boomed across the tangled mind of Devon. He urged with might to make her move. "Get up! We have to move! Now!"

Pesh's voice echoed along the frayed ends of her mind, though she couldn't – wouldn't – understand. She just wanted to sit here in apathy and think over the mistake she had made. View it from every angle possible and determine – steel – her heart to not let it happen again.

"Devon, I beg you!"

She refused to understand.

"Focus! Please. Whatever you do, whatever you want, you'll have it your way, I promise, but please...Move!"

He sounded pained, frightened and desperate, his voice a million stabs to her heart, even more than Nero's name. It was off. He begged her, bargained and pleaded. He knew it would hurt. And he used his voice to make it sting, until it bled into existence and make the pain real. Devon looked at her wrist . Too stumped over the small trickle of blood on her wrist to complain loudly. How did he do that?

Pesh was feeling the heavy weight of something in his soul. Something dangerous in the sky. And he knew, if they wasted one more moment away,with Devon rubbing herself into the dirt, she thought she belonged to, they would be too late.

Devon's head snapped up, eyes wide awake. "DANTE!" Pesh yelled his name and it tumbled over Devon lips anxiously.

Her savior. Her home. Her new found resolve to believe in more than just herself.

Devon scrambled up, feeling Pesh burst right through with her consent, and healing the small peculiar wound on her wrist through the transition. "I'm sorry, Devon. Truly sorry..."

The mass flurry of wings echoed in her ears like tidal waves over serene shore. Pesh heard them clear now. The sounds of fighting, the smell of blood. His connections stronger than ever, because there was death all around. And he didn't know, how long Dante would make it against his original arch nemesis in this world. His natural enemy. They knew ways to kill a demon for good. Even the strongest ones.

 _"Danzig, can you feel it? Where are you?"_

Inside, Pesh's words burnt into Devon's floaty subconsciousness. _Whatever you do, whatever you want, you'll have it_ , he had promised.

Pesh heard the roaring engine of Nero's car before he turned the corner. The angel waited him pass them, yet was surprised as Nero hit brakes, spitting dust an dirt into every direction, while he yelled from the driver window. "What the hell are you doing now?"

Too surprised to ask, Pesh ran over. "There's a large group of those hollow angels. I felt them fly along. They stopped moving." He gestured vaguely, yet it was enough for Nero to know. Pesh also looked...anxious.

"Get in." Nero jerked his head towards the passenger side.

Pesh jumped and slid over the hood, ripping the door open, violently even, making it ache and creak at him. He heftily landed on the seat, while Nero already hit the accelerator, making the rear wiggle like a beast ready to pounce.

Pesh slammed the door close and the car was jumping forward, hitting the road as fast as Nero could without crashing into the next wall. He took the turn with screeching tires, his heart beating frantically.

"We left Dante alone." Pesh announced over the roaring engine, making Nero grit his teeth angrily.

"Lucifer left him, too?"

Pesh only nodded, staring ahead, wondering how Nero maintained control over the car with such force and speed. Buildings flew by and yet Pesh felt like they were still moving to slow. He had a bad feeling about this.

Nero watched him from the corner of his eye, how his face contorted, as if he was in pain. He clicked his tongue, although thinking the very same. They should have never left. Not in a crisis like this, where they knew so little and had to anticipate anything. And yet here he was, feeling sorry for himself, while bigger things were clearly on the rise.

But, Dante could handle himself, that Nero knew as well. "He'll be fine. Dante doesn't act like it, but he is strong. Much stronger than them."

Pesh slowly diverted his gaze, viewing Nero with a contemplating look, yet his mind didn't stop to bring pulses of warnings, staying silent.

Nero drove like a madman, which didn't make his words much convincing either. He too was afraid. "What the hell where you doing anyway?"

"Devon needed a short break..."

"Why?"

"She decided it would be a good idea to walk on foot."

"Is she alright? Why are you out?"

"I had to beg her to go on."

Nero chewed on his lower lip. Was it because..?

Pesh read his expression easily. "Yes."

Nero groaned in frustration. "Look. I'm sorry. I get it. No need to talk about it, alright?"

Pesh nodded, but was thinking the exact opposite. Inside, Devon was silent, hearing Nero talk. He was bitter about yes, but still, he came back for her.

Pesh kept his mouth shut this time. He didn't want to meddle with them either anymore. The reason was hers to tell Nero. Pesh gave up on the responsibility. He handed it over to Devon alone.

"Almost there. Get ready." Nero gave the car a last push around the last corner into he street of their home, tires screeching as he held it from skidding. Pesh smelled the smoke. The ashes, the burnt flesh and blood. He choked on it.

Nero slammed the brakes and the two men hopped out of the car, ready to fight. Nero's bringer was brimming with light and heat, his eyes were glowing, blue dots in a shaded face. Pesh's entire form was shining brightly. And around them was nothing but silence, as they stared ahead at the collapsed building, that once was Devil May Cry.

Both exchanged a horrified look and sprang forward, ready to dig out Dante from under the pile of rubble. No enemy was in sight.

"DANTE!" Both yelled his name, as they started to clear a way to find him.

* * *

Gene sniffed the air while Ash stood next to him with a darkening expression. "Isn't this the way?"

Gene held his hand up in order to silence his brother and his other siblings. He closed his eyes, trying to pinpoint the dread brought over by the picked up winds, but dulled through the heavy falling rain. His eyes shot open. "There." His voice was low, warning them.

"What the hell are you doing up there?" A merry voice cut through Gene's action of narrowing the field of search down.

They turned towards the empty street far below and well, there was a rare sight to behold. A blonde guy with a large object on his back, draped in something like a poncho stood there, shielding his strange eyes from the rain, grinning like a madman.

"A demon." Ash easily recognized the nature of the being, before he took a step towards the ledge, nodding once for the others to follow and simply dropped down. Water and dirt splashed, as he landed gracefully, as if he jumped off a stool and not from a building of 50 feet in height.

Johnny had taken a few steps back, leisurely avoiding the impact, while his smile didn't falter for a second. "Wow, there's more of you."

Ash towered over him, which was pretty uncommon for Johnny, who was pretty tall himself by human standards. For angels and demons though, he was apparently a fair average. "Who are you? And what do you mena by 'more'?"

"Pleasure. Johnny is my name. By now, I know an angel when I see one. I know of many creatures wandering the city, but your kind seems not among the usual meddlers. If I wouldn't have met one as yourselves not too long ago though, I would have laughed."

Ash blinked, confused by the speed and mocking tune of that melodic voice, he didn't find either pleasant nor appropriate in a moment like this, with facing four of them and having nothing to show for - except a strange voice, fast tongue and a sneer. Which he sneered into the face of a lion, whom he yet hadn't even remotely poked, but was on a good way to do so.

Ash's face matched the grin, though his was more toothy and close to a snarl. The corners of his mouth were turned upwards to show his pearly whites in the ghostly light of Johnny's translucent eyes.

Dan rolled his eyes dramatically. Ash always charged in head first. "Come now. He introduced himself politely."

Ash merely snapped his head around. "And you think that's a solid reason to let him pass." A statement that stung, though Dan couldn't argue. He did think exactly that.

Johnny lifted his hand, index finger pointing upwards. "To be fair, I would have walked by you, and you wouldn't have even noticed, until I decided to call out to you."

Gene snorted. This guy was right in his humble opinion, which no one asked for nonetheless, so Gene decided to remain silent.

"We're wasting time." Ash growled at Johnny, blatantly ignoring the sloppy reproach. He had no nerves to deal with the likes of him. He huffed and turned away from the siren. "On our way."

Johnny viewed Ash's nice and broad back, slightly perplexed. "Uhm..."

"What? Are you going to get in our way?" Ash was short on everything by now. Time, patience and temper.

"Actually, I might ask myself, if we, per chance, might be headed the same way?" Johnny's nonchalance made Ash's blood boil.

Dan quickly sided with Ash, whispering something, to douse the roaring flames in Ash's eyes.

Yet, Johnny could hear it perfectly. What a bunch of idiots were they? He absentmindedly flicked some imaginary dust of his index finger, chewing on the inside of his cheek, while waiting for the other to clarify things to the big blonde, for his ears might have been clogged with a rather prominent distaste for demons.

Johnny sighed to himself, dramatically on purpose, still feeling two pairs of golden eyes on him from the other two behind the bulky guy with the blonde mane and the dark haired man.

"You said you met an angel?" Red asked him, minding to not sound to curious or hopeful. Or friendly. He failed.

"I met many. Killing them in fact." Here Johnny briefly looked over his shoulder, whether back to his destroyed club or to silently thank the shiny thing on his back, he wouldn't clarify.

Ash groaned at him, for the moment pacified, to hear this Johnny out, by Dan. "Get to the point."

"Well, those small fish I killed. Yet I met one, that was completely different."

"Meaning," Gene interrupted Johnny with a warning undertone, also slowly sharing Ash's impatience. The guy was taking pleasure in this, and that rubbed Gene the wrong way as well.

"He was a gorgeous one, very golden and blonde. Tall. Lanky. Eyes like fire." Johnny tallied up the most common traits in a sing song voice, to instill further need to explain.

The siblings exchanged a knowing look. Who could he mean other than Danzig?

"He was warm. And soothing. But, really the most prominent thing I remember was: comfort." He finally came to conclusion, they were indeed looking for that one, he had met at the club.

All eyes went equally wide at him. "It can't be.." Was all Red muttered, seeing how shocked Dan looked. Gene was in disbelief and Ash outright raged. "Where! Tell me, where, demon!"

He went so far as to grip Johnny's shoulder harshly, trying to apparently shake the answer from his curling lips.

Johnny took his wrists and shoved the angel away, making Ash gawk at him, then at his hand, then back at him - stunned by the strength from those long and nimble finger he clearly didn't see in them.

Johnny's face wasn't friendly anymore. He rolled his shoulders, where the angel had dared to touch him. "You come into my city, without introducing yourselves, while I politely did so, even if I don't have to answer to your kind in any way and yet you act, as if the place belongs to you and have the audacity to lay a hand on me, when I did nothing wrong in the first place."

Gene viewed the siren with a hint of respect and disbelief. He didn't know how Ash, the proud lion, would react to get properly reprimanded, so he was readying himself to intervene eventually.

Ash stared into Johnny's eyes, that changed to look like pearls in blood, flashing dangerously. The siren equaled the angel in terms of pride and they both acknowledged it, none taking a step back though.

Yet, the one to talk was Red. "You've met...", he choked a little on the name of the brother he hadn't seen in an eternity, even believing he had died,"...Pesh?" He sounded so heartbreaking hopeful and genuinely close to tears, Johnny's eyes broke contact with Ash's to observe the dirty blonde with the wide, and happy, smile, which brightened the whole street. Johnny's anger dissolved. Diffused by the very same smile he had seen on Pesh, now it came from another. Though this one seemed a bit older than his precious brother, he still showed the same charming childlike attitude where it was needed.

Johnny sighed and nodded. "Yes."

"The real Pesh?" Red asked again, but Ash interrupted Johnny from clarifying yet again, and unnecessarily so. He inclined his head to Johnny, who scoffed in disbelief, though he returned the gesture and gave Ash a curt nod. He'd rather talk with the other one.

"Shall I lead the way? You seemed lost up there."

Gene scrunched his nose up. "No, we weren't." Gene held himself together, just like Ash at the emotion of Pesh, which he received silent credit for from the lion like angel. They couldn't risk to show, how much this meant to them. Yet,t heir hearts all pounded in the same awaiting rhythm.

It was the first time the only dark haired man spoke. "Not entirely." He winked at his spluttering brother. "And by all mean, yes. Lead the way." Dan finally managed to get them on track, eagerly to see if this was real just the same.

Johnny showed interest in Dan the moment he used his voice, which wasn't deep and intimating like the big one's and not as full as the offended angel's, but it was pleasantly raspy. Johnny decided he liked that one too, but the youngest was his determined favorite, for as he said Pesh's name, there was a love overflowing from his eyes, that quelled in Johnny, like it did, when Pesh himself had spoken and touched him.

These angels where interesting creatures. Of course, they were.

"Better be careful. Something smells fishy, and it isn't me." Johnny pointed at the night sky in the direction of Devil May Cry. "I was on my way, as soon as I could and as I was asked to."

To Johnny's utter devastation, the joke he so liked, went over everybody's head. His shoulders slumped, yet there was a ray of hope, when Ash addressed him again. This time his voice was a more deep and rumbling mellow tune, which gave Johnny a pleasant shiver, he spitefully ignored for now, for his earlier behavior.

"What kind of creature are you?" Ash asked, as they went on their way, lead by the siren with the black object he had on his back, which caught the interest of the angels, feeling it hum with magic. As they looked closer, the shape kind of seemed familiar and so out of place on the demon's back, it couldn't simply be what they thought.

"A siren." Johnny answered truthfully, seeing no reason to lie about it, even if Ash had appeared to be disgusted by the idea of a demon free roaming along the city.

"Is that a guitar on your back?" Johnny merely grinned at Dan, who didn't feel like holding his curiosity in any longer. "No it isn't."

"I bet it is. An electric one for sure." Red piped up, receiving a happy head shake from the siren. "Wrong."

Johnny started to like this game. "You have another guess left." He looked at the dark haired angel, prompting another try from him with his face splitting grin.

Dan did him the favor, briefly scratching his chin as he pondered all the instruments the same size and shape, he ever came across, then reconsidered. "Make it four guesses, so everyone can try." Here, Ash simply grunted in return, not amused with getting involved. He didn't feel like entertaining the siren. These where cunning and dangerous creatures with powerful voices. He never had seen one to quite look like Johnny, who seemed to have changed into a normal looking human for blending in. It was compelling, he'd give him that, yet he would try to be on his toes around him. He couldn't rust the voice of his and he had felt that power surge briefly, when Johnny had pried his hands off of him.

Yet he had to give Danzig credit, if he managed convert this one to the cause. A powerful ally, if he proved to be one, when it eventually came to taking sides. Ash simply couldn't shake his natural instinct, even after all this years, though 'dangerous was only as dangerous does' (as Danzig had taught them and it didn't only apply on the other races but their own), but Johnny seemed to do everything in his power to appear as civilized and harmless as possible.

Ashe sighed. He'd take on for the team. "My guess is, it's a sitar." He took in account, how the siren must be true master at his profession, and he found this instrument to be the most fitting for him.

"Alright, that was number three, but indeed, I will make an exception." Here he turned to Gene. "For stealing your guess, I make it four. Though the rules clearly state different. But what fun are rules anyway, if not bend a little here and there, eh?" His mischievous tone didn't sit right with Ash, who yet again read much more into it (too much?), it fueled his dislike for the magic creature. And here had been, trying to act friendly of all things.

Ash gave him an exaggerated huff, which Johnny promptly ignored, in favor of drowning in Gene's eyes, like golden pools, like glistening ponds in a setting sun on a summer's eve. He swore he could smell flowers to from a nearby meadow too.

Johnny shook his head lightly, in order to get rid of the strange sensation, while Gene overtly observed him. "Alright, last guess on me. Talk about pressure." He laughed lightly and Johnny swore, it was the most beautiful thing, Johnny had ever seen and heard.

"Take your time..." Johnny merely cooed at him, not trusting his own voice and senses right now.

"It's Gene. My name is Gene." The angel introduced himself nonchalantly, and Johnny's mouth went dry. Gene just climbed up the ladder of favorites to sit in all his glory on the very top. "Gene, then. Take your time." Johnny was surprised how suggestive he sounded, and not intentional either. Damn these angels. They had a power which they didn't even use on purpose, or so he hoped. Yet again, he couldn't help but drift into estimating the effect, when they did use it on full purpose. Seldom had he met another creature, who could use it's voice to the extent Johnny himself could. It seemed he found his match in the angels. And as exciting as it was, he also couldn't help but to be slightly unsettled by it.

"Cut the chitchat. There's danger up ahead and you play silly games." Ash suddenly snarled, alerted by the distinct smell of blood through the rain. They must be getting closer. "Move." He boomed and the angels were set in motion, leaving a staggering Johnny behind. "It's a banjo." He tutted, utterly disappointed. His eyes followed the four up ahead, while he opened the casket on his back with a snap of his fingers. "There seems work to be done, Clandestine my love."

He moved and held the casket lovingly like a human about to be bedded passionately, only to have it disappear and his trusted weapon lay there in his arms. He strummed it once, humming the tune out of habit, and as fast as a rolling waving in a storm, he raced after the dashing angels before they disappeared from sight.

* * *

Dante had been snoring lightly, sunken into his comfy chair, feet on his beloved desk, magazine still spread over his lap, one hand dangling form his side, while the other one laid on the paper, ready to scratch his nose in his light slumber.

The crashes and bursting of the windows, glass shards glittering in the chummy lights, alerted him nonetheless. He was quick. Too quick.

Hollow eyes followed the rustling magazine as it hit the floor, after the red flash had moved to throw his chair over his head in order to knock one of his underlings out of the air. He had dodged the chair with a lazy flap of huge wings, while the thing hit another of the soldiers square to the face.

The moment it hit the wall between door and broken windows, something whiffed past him, to slice his left wing and impale the very same minion behind him, nailing it effectively to the wall. The skull from the sword's hilt silently growled at him as he struggled to maintain balance with one wing, as it presumably flew back to it's red clad owner.

His hollowed voice growled loudly, before he landed on his steady feet, still searching for the obnoxious half breed.

Dante laughed at him and his halting companions from behind the bar, a shot glass in one hand and bottle of brown liquid in the other. He offered it politely, still stunning the angels with his inhuman speed, as he tossed the glass at the leaders face and took a huge swipe directly from the bottle.

"Can't look at you while sober. Gives me the chills."

"Laugh and be merry while you can, pest." The leader pointed his neat lance at him. Dante curled his lips into a daunting sneer. He couldn't wait to impale the angel on that shiny golden toothpick.

"Pest. That's a new one. More like pissed. Pun intended." He held his index finger up and laughed over his own stupid joke, but suddenly coughed from pouring a way too generous amount of alcohol down his burning throat. Danzig's stuff was indeed rough.

Dante shook his head like a wet dog a few times, making it quite the comical display, yet he assumed those angels didn't have one single funny bone in them. However it may was, he'd break every last one of either way.

"You are a violation of the law and thus you shall die." The leader had the courtesy even to clarify their mission. Nice.

Dante mimed his antics in sheer mockery, rolling his eyes in addition. "Blah blah blah. I violate many things and your law is not even close to top of the list, believe me."

"Perish!" The big hunk of armored angel boomed at him, hitting the ground with his lance, like the stomp of a giant. It echoes through the house, cracks appeared everywhere and the walls shook bottom to top. Dante heard things fall and break everywhere.

If they knocked over Vergil's carefully assembled and alphabetically ordered bookshelves, they were truly in for a good beating from his twin. He would make sure, Vergil would learn of it this very moment. Dante focused as hard as he could on the link they shared, delivering his secret message and for the twin to aptly feel it in his guts.

 _Vergil, I really need you here right now._

Dust and small pebbles kept falling from the ceiling and onto Dante. He shrugged them off, looking as unimpressed as ever. The last window burst open and the onslaught from the fully assembled angels versus the lone hunter was in full session.

* * *

When Nero arrived with Pesh, the fight was over as fast as it had started. Nero stared openmouthed and wide eyed at the ruined shop. The top had crumbled into itself. Vergil's room was simply gone and the rest of the ceilings and walls had fallen to level with the outside stone steps. The doors lay there, half buried under rubble, glass shards lay strewn across the pavement, glitterign like rubies and diamonds. Blood everywhere.

Pesh just watched Nero's face fall into a toxic desperation. Without a word, they exchanged a nod. Nero's ghostly bringer manifested, starting to clear the rubble. "Dante! Where are you? Answer me!"

Nero's pleading voice pierced Pesh's ears and heart, while he too attempted to pry the heavy blocks of crumbled stone away. They worked frantically, Nero huffing all the way while Pesh tried to feel for Dante's presence, like feelers, his consciousness extended, alerting Devon inside in the process.

"He'll be alright." Pesh repeated it like a mantra to her and Nero. The hybrid ignored it and only sped up his effort, until they had cleared the front area and Nero laid eyes on the destroyed desk, which looked like someone had it smashed with a big hammer. Or like someone had fallen on it.

There was so much blood and Pesh luckily refuted Nero's suspicion. It wasn't Dante's. Well, not all of it, but Pesh kept his mouth shut. The amount was making him sick to the bone. Even for Dante, that was a lot of blood lost. How would he have generated so much to cover the loss? Was it possible? He had witnessed, how Nero have had a hard time (and almost had failed) to withstand three angels at once, so even the demonic blood had it's limits.

No, Dante was a whole another level from the younger hybrid. His half breed status was flawless. He combined all the best traits, didn't he?

Pesh caught himself, as he neared Nero's staggering speed of picking up and flailing chunks of wall behind them, and kept at it. He was just as scared for the hunter. Devon was terrified by the idea, he might be gone and begged heartwrenchingly to find him. Nero was fighting some damn tears even.

Pesh felt like he was in a choking nightmare. "Dante!" His voice boomed through the night, through the stone and rain. Through every crook and crevice. The fear and hope mixed together to become painstakingly piercing and like a beacon for Dante's griping pain, that engulfed his entire body. His mangled body had a harsh time of functioning altogether and the uncanny slow healing process added to his excruciating throbbing head.

He coughed up the blood clots from his multi perforated lungs. "Ugh...nasty." He gurgled from his torn throat. His tongue was sticking to his palate and his crushed rib cage made it so hard to even inhale the tiniest amount of breath to speak. He coughed again, sounding as if his windpipe was filled with gravel.

His healing had stagnated after the attacks, he had suffered through and from. Their weapons had a curious ability to make his demonic traits malfunction. His triggered state had been unaffected, thank god, but after he had burned the amass of energy he had harbored, he had been out like a light. Steaming and fuming like dry ice, as his scales and horns dissolved into something like black goo. Of course, they had something like anti-demon-weapon, his slow brain had registered, before he had taken a well deserved nap, after the house house had crumbled over and on top of his split skull.

The moment they pulled Dante from the cellar, or what was the rest of it, all scattered groups of companions arrived on the scene.

It was a flurry of words and too bright and loud for Dante. He saw a few familiar faces, Nero's was the first though and he couldn't help but ruffle his bloodied hand through the white looks, painting them dirty pink in the process. Nero didn't seem to mind, bombarding him with questions. Dante's haze made it hard to follow. Nero had placed Dante agaisnt the stairs, where he barely could sit upright and his head lolled around, as if he had a broken neck. But he still looked up and down from time to time, as Nero knelt in front of him. Dante tried to smile at him, yet it was only disturbing with the split lips and bloodied teeth. Nero's insides churned at the sight.

"Shoun't hve dat boubn..." Dante slurred, still grinning.

"What?" Nero was totally baffled at the first response he got from the older hunter. Yet, he had no time to decipher the meaning.

"You are an idiot." Vergil came forward, pretty much knocking Nero and Pesh out of the way, while the rest of the assembled people stared at the powerful hunter and his worrisome state, while hetried to talk with his beaten and bruised face. Vergil could see the bone fractures under his eyes and his unhinged jaw. It was disturbing to watch.

"It's time to move. Now." Death grumbled at Danzig and his siblings.

"Can't he heal?" Pesh asked Vergil, who had also knelt down in front of his brother, expression furious, voice a cutting snarl full of disgust. "It would seem your kin can counter the power of Sparda just fine. We should have taken that into account. He is healing, but it is very slow."

Vergil put his hand over Dante's scraped and cracked one, feeling for the demonic pulse, that surged with Dante's blood through his body. It was in an uproar, working meticulously to weave the uncountable cells back together. In this state, Dante couldn't travel. Not like they had intended at least. But meaning, no portal usage, they would have to go by vehicle. Vergil didn't even want to think about the possible dangers of making such a trip. And who would make it deliberately?

While Vergil debated with his inner self, Nero fought with the aftermath of his shock to see Dante in a state, he didn't think possible for the strong half blood. Pesh had staggered backwards in distraught, wiping the blood and dust from his hands, while he searched Danzig in the crowd of people. He needed a second and a few blinks. When had this become a crowd anyway? He saw the riders, and two others next to them he didn't know. Then he met Danzig's eyes, but not only them, but the eyes of his brothers?

Pesh gawked silently, not believing his watery eyes. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he blinked again, leaving trials of dirt, only to pool at the corner of his mouth and to drip from his trembling chin. He carefully staggered forward, praying this was real. And it was.

Gene and Red sprang forward, thinking they were in a hazy dream of love and light, when they finally held their small brother in both their arms, encapsulating him from all sides, as Dan joined the breathtaking reunion, no one else had time to watch, for the shock over the lost home and defeated Dante struck them deeply.

Ash was the last to join, with Danzig beside him, to let them revel in their moment of blissful content. Though he did smile at their happy hearts, hearing their declaration of love loyalty to one another and the pleading to never be separated again from here on.

The riders looked at each other, knowing the feeling of deep bonds all to well. They weren't always siblings, but they were now. And nothing out there would ever change that. Death face didn't betray his feelings though, when he spoke to Danzig, who left his siblings the space and time they needed.

"Well, angel, at least one good thing happened today." The pale rider sounded bitter, but War shook his head at him. "Let them have their moment of happiness. Who knows, how many are left to share."

"You know you can still call me Danzig. That's still my name, Death." The rider nodded. "It's a force of habit."

"I know, you have no love for the ones that still dwell in the heavenly realm, but here on earth, you can be sure, we are not like them. We won't betray you in order to further our own agenda."

"Hear, hear," Strife said solemnly, mostly to himself.

Only now, they had a mind to observe, how Nero and Vergil knelt in front of Dante, who seemed to recover. Barely, but he did.

Vergil minced no words, as he stared at Nero, brimming with rage. "Why did you leave him?"

Nero immediately shot up, repulsed and ready defend himself. "He's your brother. You're the one who walked out of him!"

Vergil too rose to his full height, eyes flashing dangerously, as Nero decided he wouldn't take shit from him. "He was supposed to look after himself!"

"Yeah, well. I thought so too!" Nero spat back, and they realized, with everyone staring at them wide eyed, the angels had even interrupted their merry meeting, how ridiculous they must look, bickering like children, when Dante sat there, wheezing harshly, trying to form words with his jaw still slightly out of position and tongue smashed.

Both turned to the hunter, simultaneously falling to their knees. They hardly deciphered the words, if at all, but they believed he told them to shut up.

Vergil was fuming again. "Where is your goddamn sword?"

Dante flicked his hand, cracked fingers pointing into the vague direction of the shop. Vergil gritted his teeth, as Dante beckoned it over apparently. He prayed it wasn't damaged. He knew, what happened the last time, his sword broke. He sure as hell, wouldn't let Dante meet the same fate. Though he highly doubted, anyone could break it, no less these angels, even if their own swords cut deep and harsh.

They heard a deep scraping noise and a few bumps and thumps – Rebellion tried to free itself, as it's master called. It came crashing threw a few moments later, easily landing within Dante's grasp, which was still to weak to pick it up by the handle. Vergil placed it carefully on Dante's lap and examined it closely. It was intact, no scrapes or marks visible to the naked eye. Relief washed over him at the sword in tip top condition.

"What's wrong?" Nero interpreted Vergil's concerned look over Rebellion.

"Nothing. It's alright." Vergil replied curtly, yet knowing Nero wouldn't leave the matter alone by the look if it.

"What's so special about anyway?" Nero didn't disappoint.

"My father made it, along with Yamato."

Nero nodded, and by Vergil's quieter voice, he swallowed his anger and simply stood up to take a few steps back. The image of Kyrie's necklace before his inner eye and the pain deflected everything else he wanted to say do. He simply let go for now, leaving Dante and Vergil to themselves and rather joined the riders and Danzig, who huddled together like they where conspiring something important anyway.

Danzig and the riders had exchanged a look, that clearly had said, Vergil didn't even know half of the story behind those swords. And everyone assumed, it went over Nero's head, but it didn't.

Dante coughed and was finally able to move, clutching Rebellion closer to his body. The only good thing their father had ever done, in his opinion, though Vergil might argue. So he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to discuss (argue) that topic right here and now. But he tightened his jaw, and with live moving back into his body, he clutched it with both his hands, clicking it back into place and wiggling his chin a few times for good measure.

Johnny observed from his position he had taken, after the angels had discovered, that they had been too late. But now, he felt the urge to interrupt, mainly so the brothers wouldn't escalate. Dante still couldn't stand, but that wouldn't keep him from opposing Vergil. They were both stubborn fools sometimes. And what did he know? They ended up trying to kill each other multiple times.

Johnny shuddered. That wouldn't be nice right now.

He casually walked over and Ash was the first to respond to his appearance. Who would have thought?

"Ah, I wondered where you went. At the promise of battle no less?"

Johnny bowed, his banjo safely secured inside it's casing on his back once again. "It was over. So I decided I wasn't needed for now."

Danzig weakly smiled at him though, once it was estiamted, the imminet danger had passed. The old man welcomed the siren with an extended hand, which Johnny grabbed, only to cover their hands both with his other. "It's good to see you. I'm glad to have you join us."

Johnny gave him sad smile and a nod. He hadn't anywhere to go anyway. And now the shop was gone too. Everything seemed to go to hell since the day, the obnoxious crow had visited his office.

"Where's the stupid bird?" Johnny greeted Death in his usual way, by insulting his trusted pet. War only huffed at the siren, while Strife and Fury snickered at each other secretly.

"Dust is scouting a way to get out of here. We can't stay any longer, and will have to move tonight."

Nero had observed quietly until now. "What? Where are we going?"

From behind the group they heard Vergil sigh exaggeratedly. "Well, now is as good as a time as any I suppose?" He pursed his lips, giving Death a reproachful look. The rider showed no reaction whatsoever. "Of course." Vergil figured, not the least surprised, Death could care less. But with Dante slipping in and out of consciousness, while the staggered healing process luckily progressed further, he deemed himself lucky.

"Why is it such a big secret in the first place," War asked the blue twin also not getting it. And how would he or the others understand? The only one truly knowing what the deal was with the old mansion, was Danzig. And he was the one Vergil tentatively had opened up to, only to learn, that Danzig had indeed the resources to start and finish Vergil's wish and request to restore the old house to it's former glory. And Vergil never knew or wanted to find out, how Dante would react to it. Dante never had been sentimental about their former home. On the contrary, he found the shop better than any other place. It was his and his alone. He had liked the old leather couch. The dirty bar, the flickering sign. The destroyed jukebox. The common kitchen with four different stools, all collected or found. It had all the corny and musty Dante-charm, he could have asked for. Every little piece and furniture, Dante had carried in and placed it himself, to prove he was alone and could make it alone either way.

Dante had never even mentioned their former home once, after it had burned down along with...their whole childhood.

So, Vergil couldn't answer War's question truthfully or keep it short on account of all of the above. And the prospect, that Dante might never wanted to set foot in there ever again, because of all this and the memories attached to it.

Danzig stepped in as pacifier, before Vergil's silence would be taken as rude. Which it did anyway. "It is complicated. But yet, so simple. And now, it is our only hope of shelter and protection."

Nero was chewing on his lower lip, not in the least satisfied Vergil's non explaining. Secrets - again and again and again. And it made him snap. "Would you please tell me at least? Am I the only one who doesn't know, what they are talking about?"

"No, you're not. I want to know, too." Pesh suddenly stood next to him and what he said, caught Nero off guard, making him gape at the blonde.

Danzig only chuckled. "It's a mansion, miles and miles far west from here settled in a huge forest, a days drive I reckon. It belonged to Vergil's and Dante's parents and was long abandoned. I bought the land on Vergil's behalf, and we rebuild it completely." He should have added, he did it while Vergil had been away, yet he found it fair to mention, they both had put in a joint effort, with Vergil providing all blueprints form memory and every detail he wanted fixed, while Danzig had provided the resources to do so.

"No way." Nero looked over to Vergil, who still stood unmoved, like a statue. He thought Vergil would rip Danzig a new one, but after a few seconds of awkward silence, he simply shrugged. Which Danzig found to be very Dante-like, and it made him smile slyly.

"In essence, yes. What Danzig said. I'll tell you the whole story, once we are there."

Nero couldn't stop gaping. Vergil just admitted to tell him the story of their home, of the past nonetheless? Now, he couldn't absolutely wait to hear that. And to move. "Seriously?"

Vergil sighed. "Seriously."

Pesh felt Nero twitch nervously under the prospect, he had just been offered much longed for information. Was he happy?

Dante sat up, having to hear every single word, yet he didn't say anything, processing all of this information fo things, which had been essentially decided over his head and without him. Yet, the mansion, he could care less about. Vergil could do with it, as he pleased. Dante had no interest in it. But the truth of having to physically go there, was a whole other thing. He really didn't feel like doing it. But he had no choice either, still unable to stand on his own two feet.

"We have to travel by the traditional way, though." Now was Danzig's time to admit something critical int heir plans. Vergil did ask him to verify it as destination for one of the portals, but Danzig had been to anxious to do so, while nobody was watching the mansion, simply out of precaution to not fall into a trap as soon as they teleported there. He had placed a heavy barrier around the perimeter, which could only be broken on location. And by him, effectively separating the mansion from Vergil even, should anything have happened to him. Yet, he believed Dante, after the trick with the controlled mirror portal, to be able to handle even that.

The broken mirror. He wanted the thing to be moved as well, he remembered. It could still be of good use to them. "I left it protected and I can only break the spell, once we are there." He explained sheepishly, while Vergil looked sour. Damn the old man and his overwhelming paranoia. "And you thought, that it wouldn't become inconvenient?"

"I definitely thought we'd have more time." And Danzig felt the weight of remorse and put the blame solely on himself. It had been another mistake to believe Dante and Vergil could handle themselves. Dante was too reckless and Vergil was to hung up in his own misery to effectively account all the troubles around. They all hadn't deemed it possible.

"Nero. Gimme a hand, will ya. " Dante's voice didn't sound to weak any longer and Nero quickly was at his side, when he tried to stand up, using the wall to back him up. "We'll take the car. Fuck, were you always this heavy?" Nero grunted, as he put Dante's arm around his neck, grabbing the hunter by the waist and steering him towards the vehicle.

Dante huffed and grunted, yet he gave Nero the widest grin. "Are you calling me fat?"

Nero only laughed in return, all too happy, that Dante was alright enough to joke. "No, all I'm saying is you're not in a very good shape."

"Well, I didn't loose, if that's what you're implying." Dante gladly took the bait, from a teasing Nero.

"I didn't. I merely assumed." Nero said in a deflated voice.

"Then you assumed wrong." Dante informed him slightly offended, the grin slipped out of place.

Nero almost dropped him. The conversation turned serious in a heartbeat, as Nero opened the back door and let Dante slide inside to sprawl over the back seats. He did with a few huffs and groans, yet he felt better nonetheless. "If you wouldn't have had lying me on the cold and wet pavement and go off to have your chit chat, I would have gladly informed you, I beat them all. The house just collapsed on top of me as I was recharging."

Nero quirked an eyebrow at him, his look questioning Dante if he was being serious.

Dante winced through his shrug before he collapsed straight back and let Nero almost shove his legs and feet in as a rebunk, but the hunter groaning pain had him rethink. He did as gentle and gingerly as he could. His stomach still twisted, seeing Dante exhausted like this. Too exhausted to heal properly in the usual quick rate. He really must have taken a beating there and it was Nero's fault.

Dante saw the regret in his expression. "Eh, what can I say. I did go all out on them." Which was needed, Dante had to burn through his stamina and resources like a crazed madman in order to defeat over twenty of those angel things. So, essentially he won. Only that the house didn't withstand the force of the battle. And Dante had been to weakened to get out in time, accepting tons of bricks and shit and whatnot to easily bury him underneath. It knocked him out cold immediately. And that's how Nero and Pesh had found him. Also those heaven forged weapons did him in good, he had to admit.

Danzig grabbed the initiative all the while, leaving the great introductions for later.

"The riders will head north with me and my siblings. Out of the city for now."

Pesh's head whipped round. "But I want to go with him." He pointed at Nero, who looked just as surprised as the others. "Please," Pesh added wistfully, knowing he'd have to argue with Danzig and was ready for it.

Death too had major objections, making Danzig grit his teeth. "What about the merchant?"

"He traveled ahead, assuming no complication I reckon."

"Shouldn't we at least try to use his portals to drop us off near by?"

Danzig turned on his heels, facing the rider, who towered over him, eyes narrowed and expression clearly spelling how he was displeased with him.

Danzig didn't care. "Ther eis nothign nearby except for wilderness. And now is our only chance to slip away quietly."

"What if we are being watched as we speak?" Death returned as harsh as Danzig had spoken.

"Then, all the more reason to go now, rather than to lead them back to my place. A fight int hte open would do much less damage than within the cities compounds."

Death exhaled roughly. Point taken. He looked at War, who seemed to ponder. But not long enough to slightly shake his head. He was with Danzig on this, Death realized. His younger brother with the hot temper had quickly deduced the same thing apparently. They couldn't afford to take this risk over the other, lesser one.

Death again breathed heavily in and out. "Fine." He viewed the skies as if to make sure, it was empty and dark. "What about them?" He nodded at Vergil, who was now accompanied by Johnny who openly stole glances at mainly the angels. Then at Pesh.

"They will do as they please."

Pesh gave Danzig a grateful smile, although he was in shock his brother would let him go off this easily. Had he faith or was he simply in too much of a rush to argue? Well, he nodded and sided with Nero, giving him a curt nod, like saying that it'd be alright. Maybe he felt like the boy needed it, and maybe Danzig felt that too.

"Verge?" Nero asked in a small voice, not knowing how he'd take it, now that the car was full, with Dante sprawled out in the back.

"I know the way. I can travel on my own." The blue devil replied matter of factly and to Nero's relief, he couldn't detect any form of bitterness. Well, that was settled.

"Dust will show you the way." And just when Death said it, they heard the faint cawing of the huge black bird, as it circled above their heads to fly down in cirlces, landing on the car's hood.

Nero's brow furrowed. "Nice." The sarcasm didn't go unnoticed. War chuckled at him and his skeptic expression. "Don't worry, young Nero. Dust won't lead you astray. He's never been wrong and lead my brother through all three kingdoms without failure."

"So, it's a magic bird," Nero asked genuinely interested all of a sudden. He liked War somehow. And whenever he was called 'young Nero' by him, he felt strangely accepted. It was kind of endearing how the huge red warrior appearance clashed with his gentle voice and reassuring demeanor. It reminded him of Dante. His first impression and the sudden change afterwards - it was the very same. Nero felt safer somehow. He couldn't really explain it. Or maybe it had been relief, that such a great warrior was on his side and not the opposite. And the blooming connection he had slightly felt with War too, after they had talked when Nero had cleaned up the room. He sighed at the thought. What a waste. All of his stuff must be buried or worse, destroyed in the violent battle, Dante must have fought. He briefly though about the suitcase he brought with him from Fortuna. He opened it once to take Red Queen out to never lock it back in. He never touched the remaining contents either and instead shoved it under his bed. To forget, maybe. He didn't know.

Death lead his attention back to the bird, before Nero could wander into a depth and darkness inside he'd rather leave alone. "He is. Keep an eye on him. He's fast." He said it to both Pesh and Nero, warning them to not loose sight and focus, though he knew Dust wouldn't loose them either. But better safe than sorry, knowing the two hot blooded individuals would need the heads up in case somethng would happen.

Pesh shrugged and nodded, as he walked to the passenger side. "Got it." He motioned Nero to get in as well. Danzig seemed impatient already from where Pesh stood. He'd rather not strain his brother further. The scowl he wore spoke volumes. He was surprised Ash didn't already usher them off, as he gave him and th eothers a nod and a longing look. Maybe he thought, since Danzig was there, it wasn't his place. The knucklehead had his principles. One for example, don't cut up the chain of command. Even though banned and on earth and not bound by any heavenly rule, they all seemed to view Danzig as their leader still. Even the twins. And who would have thought? Even the riders. Danzig must have dealt with them for a long time time, Pesh came to think of it to achieve this. Not from his siblings but from everything else. He inclined his head slightly, as looked at the shell of old man his brother was wearing like a cloak. Yes, Danzig was someone you owed repsect. And he didn't demand it, yet it came so effortlessly. Well, effortless might not be thr right word. Danzig had endured a long live already. A very long live he live din full conscience. Pesh's heart broke a little at the thought he had missed it all. And before he would cry again, or worse, glomp his brother in public and out of nowhere, he got in the car, rather staring ahead into the dark. The crow sat on the hood, observing him with knowing, shiny button eyes. And Pesh could only think, yes, this was anything but an ordinary crow.

Nero got in as well, after saying his goodbyes for. He didn't know the way, but that was the least of his problems right now. He started the engine and checked briefly on Dante, who seemed to have either passed out or have fallen asleep. He assumed the latter.

Pesh followed his movement and trailing eyes, turning in his seat. He extended a hand, but quickly (and rather harshly to boot, which took him by surprise) Nero grabbed his wrist. "Don't. Let him sleep."

Pesh stared at the contact, to baffled to answer, mouth hanging open in shock.

Nero didn't burn himself.

The young hybrid eyes followed to where he held Pesh's wrist awfully tight and loosened his grip immediately. "Sorry."

Neither Nero nor Dante had burned themselves, Pesh remembered, while giving Nero a curious wide eyed look, when he retracted his hand completely. Dante only ever so sightly had felt it, when he had shifted from human to devil. And only then. Which Pesh found remarkable. And odd. "I was only going to check, if he was alright."

Nero shifted into first gear, waving one last time to the remaining company. "What do you expect to see?"

"I'd rather feel," Pesh replied cryptically, grazing Dante's arm with his fingertips. He didn't know what he anticipated, but the heat wasn't exactly it. Dante was warm. Not really burning up, but comfortably warm. For a hybrid. With demon blood. Powerful demon blood. Pesh shifted on his bum to fully layhis hand right over Dante's wrist. The pulsing waves of warmth crashed right into Pesh's conscience. The angel once more viewed the hunter with astonishment. It was pleasantly humming under his hard skin. He pulled his tingling fingers away, inspecting his own fingertips with the same expression he had, when Nero had touched him.

Nero observed him briefly from the corner of his eyes, half amused over the angel's strange behavior. He had driven off, turning the first corner, while the crow had taken flight and steered them in a pleasent glide. Pesh didn't even realize this, it would seem. He sank back into his seat. "He's fine. I guess. His heart beats just like always."

Nero chuckled. "Thought so." However,the shock wore off just now, contrarily to his casual exterior. Dante was fine. Of course he was. He was an idiot to not believe anything else. Nothing could hurt Dante permanently. Or so it would seem.

The creature, which looked like a crow, but really wasn't, left a shimmering trail of green dust, easy enough to follow for Nero and his inhuman sight. "Dust, eh?" Nero remarked at the cute trail.

Pesh caught on finally with Nero. "It looks like a tiny faerie, really."

Nero put his tongue in his cheek. "Do you think they exist?"

Pesh spluttered at him. "Do I think..? I know they do."

"You're shitting me." Nero gave him a brief blank stare, before he trained his eyes back on the bird, quickly remembering Death's grave instructions.

"I don't know, what you mean by shitting. I would never shit", Pesh pulled a reasonably disgusted face at Nero here, "on anyone. That's just...wrong."

"It's a figure of speech, geez." And despite himself, Nero felt the bubble of laughter coming up from his belly at the thought of that, a hilarious picture formign in his head. And it felt damn good, bu the refrained from letting it out, but it ended in an amused chuckle. "It means: are you joking with me."

Pesh looked rather comically enlightened now, which gave Nero even more reason to laugh at him.

"Oh. It sounds obscene nonetheless." Pesh pulled a disgusted face, making Nero explain further. "It's meant to be funny."

"Well, no I'm not 'shitting' you." Pesh exaggerated the word and he kind of liked the sound actually. It made him sound more human maybe, and by the look on Nero's face, it was indeed funny. Nero was giggling honestly by now. He was teaching dirty language to an angel and it was hysterical. Once again, despite everything that just had happened, he now found it to be one of his life goals to make Pesh say those things. Not to mention, how happy the angel looked. Nero could get used to him. And it hit him like a ton of bricks. Pesh wasn't indeed so bad. Not at all. And Nero could care less about angels, nephilim and all the others. Pesh was alright in his books. Even though they were eventually meant to be enemies in some sort of twisted master plan. And about that, Nero also could care lesser then less.

Pesh happily blabbered on through Nero's musings and pulled the hybrid back to the there and then, giving him a 101 of faeries apparently. "Though they can be scary. And pretty violent. And very cheeky. I don't recommend to get on their bad side. They have a sick sense of humor. And they are not tiny. Well, some are, but it doesn't make them less dangerous."

"What are they?" Nero found himself asking, for no apparent reason at all. But for once he didn't prefer the silence and the hum of the engine over mindless chatter.

"You mean, where do they belong to?"

"Yeah. Heaven or hell?"

"Hell." Pesh replied matter of factly, seeing Nero's face fall into a shocked expression. "Many things swarmed the earth from hell. Not everything is light or dark, believe me. I know, what I'm talking about." Pesh sounded uncharacteristically bitter, which let Nero's elated mood die down. Memories seemed to flood the angel and not the good kind, he surmised.

Ah, way to kill the good vibrations. Nero looked at Pesh with a regretful expression, which the angel didn't see. He was looking down on his hands yet again, face and eyes blank.

Nero chewed on his lip, inclining his head from one side to the other. "Hey. We all have our package to carry, but it gets lighter with time, maybe a lot of time. You just learn to deal with it, maybe. And I know, whatever you did, it isn't your fault and you mean no harm. To anyone. Not to your siblings. Or to Devon."

Nero snapped his mouth shut, mind blown over himself and the words that just came out of his mouth. Were they Dante's? Where they Vergil's? They couldn't be possibly his own?

Pesh lifted his head and turned towards the strange voice of reason, that just came from the young hybrid. So, underneath it all, Nero saw those things. And understood. Not just for himself though, he didn't.

Pesh awkwardly rubbed his hands together, before he tamed his wild blonde locks, which had fallen into his eyes as he had bent his head down in shame. He wore a thoughtful look on his face, observing Nero, who drove the car with facing ahead stubbornly. And not giving himself the courtesy of saying something elemental.

Pesh nodded to himself in understanding. Nero was a walking contradiction, shaped by events in the past, which had been horrible to experience. And made him closed off and angry. He wore his heart on the sleeve, yet didn't allow his sadness to heal. His anger became a vent. The only he knew. And he knew it wasn't right to las out at everything and everyone. So, he bottled that up as well. Bu tit stil showed from tiem to time. Like the sadness. Nero was torn and stitched himself back up as good as he could. And the twins were the same. They tried to help each other with their package, but to what end, when no one had a good coping mechanism with their emotions themselves. But Pesh knew they were good people.

He was the living proof of it, or the spell would have never been broken.

"I should probably change back. I'm kind of tired."

Nero tried to give him a neutral look, feeling as if Pesh was in need to get away from him fro now. He stirred in things he didn't mean to. Yet to say sorry would mean to acknowledge his mishap, he didn't want to afflict. So, he only nodded in understanding. "Sure."

"It's still kind of new to be out this long. It gets overwhelming." And it wasn't even a lie.

"I think I kinda get it."

Nero was horrified though, the moment Pesh said it. He would have to deal with Devon. And he really didn't feel like it right now. He thought they would be back at the shop, and would have tiem to readjust. And the angry white beast inside him suddenly roared at him. He was a coward. An awkward idiot. She said to forget. Maybe he couldn't do that. But he could act, like he did. Like he always acted, he was fine. So he was. Fine.

"It's fine." Nero said to himself, as if to declare it to the outside world, like he always did. Anything else would get him into trouble anyway. And he didn't wanted to be in trouble on their way to God knows where in the middle of God know what.

"It will be," Pesh responded solemnly, before the tell tale vapor and glow told Nero, he was gone. And instead, Devon sat next to him. Nero mentally steeled and prepared himself to get over with the awkwardness, only to find that her remaining eye was closed. Devon was fast asleep.

Nero huffed out on relief, roughly exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding. He stared up at the crow ahead, still with the green dust trailing from it's black feathers. His eyes could make out everything nuance in the night, yet it still helped him regardless. His sole companion, wide awake as him.

"Well, buddy. Just us now."


End file.
